


Dawn's New Light - Born to a New Dawn Book II

by the_scribbler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 169,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22167991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_scribbler/pseuds/the_scribbler
Summary: Continuation of "Born to a New Dawn" - Book II.  Story continues the saga of a female Harry, raised by an American witch, adopted into a powerful lineage, and freed to live a very different life.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Fem!Harry / Hermione., Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black / OC
Comments: 45
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 1  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
[the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com](mailto:%22the_scribbler@shadowgard.com%22)**  


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**From Book 1, Chapter XIV**  
She unscrolled the paper and did her best to lay it flat so that she could read it.  
The paper struggled to cooperate with her magic, but she could take it only so far, so she had to hold it down with both hands. 

**19 September 1992,**

**Dearest Isabelle:**

**_I am ashamed that it has taken me this long to write to you, but things are happening here that I didn’t expect and I lost track of time. I know that I promised you letters, and frankly, after kissing you, I was at a loss to know what to say. I’ve never felt my magic respond to anyone like it did with you and that scared me – but in a good way. I want you._**

 ** _They’ve made me Headmaster of Hogwarts. Does that surprise you? It surprised the hell out of me. Albus has been sent to Azkaban for numerous crimes, not all of which I can even fathom. Minerva has been held over for questioning and possible charges, including kidnapping, conspiracy to commit kidnapping, use of magic on a Muggle, lying to investigators by way of the Fidelius Charm, and a bunch of others. I frankly don’t’ see how she won’t go to jail, unless Harley does something, and I’m thinking that she might, but she won’t discuss it. I know that I wouldn’t want to be Amelia Bones or Cornelius Fudge right now._**

**_Isabelle, I know this is unexpected, but… would you come to Hogwarts? At least for a little while? I really want to see you and to know if you feel the same about me as I do about you. My life would be so much better with you in it, I think, and if you feel the same, then we’re fools not to try._ **

**Always,**

**Sirius**

Isabelle read the note, read it again, and then burst into happy tears. It was exactly what she wanted. She had never wanted anything like she wanted to be with Sirius. She hadn’t dared tell Harley that she felt her magic connect to Sirius, in case the two of them didn’t get on, but now? She knew that they did, and she could freely admit that she and Sirius did, and all was right with the world. She was going to Hogwarts, to be with Sirius, and though she didn’t know what came after that… for the moment, all was right with the world.

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**Monday, September 21, 1992 – Amelia Bones’ office, DMLE / London, UK**

“And I don’t care if God himself decides to come down here, I’m not letting her go” Amelia yelled into her person floo. She had been going back and forth on this point and she wasn’t caving in. Minerva McGonagall had done too many things to just let walk, she thought, and her entire career had been built on prosecuting people who crossed the line.

“How much of this building are you willing to lose to make your point, Lady Bones?”

Amelia whipped around, getting slightly disoriented for a moment, after breaking off an active floo connection.

Harley and Hermione Ross looked at her, before Hermione used her incredible reflexes and her magic to snatch away, abruptly, the older woman’s wand.

“You can’t just…“ Amelia started to say, before Harley used her magic to push the woman back and down, into her office chair.

“We can’t just what, Lady Bones? Barge in here? I think you’ll find that there’s nothing you can do to stop us on that point.”

Amelia wasn’t stupid. She knew that she was in imminent danger if she pissed off these two girls. They had demonstrated very little compunction against killing when they thought it was necessary and she was now wandless and helpless against their power. “What do you want?” She finally got out.

“You know what we want. Let Minerva go. Tell Fudge to pardon her and then let her go. We will see to it that she retires, somewhere quiet, and will never bother you again.”  
“And if I don’t?”

Harley rubbed the bridge of her nose and then said, “Look, we know where you live. We know where Fudge lives. We could find a couple of rocks in orbit and demonstrate just what they can do when they land. We’ve been practicing, as you know.”

Amelia tried to bluff. “You’re threatening me? How dare you!”

Hermione had had enough and her voice took on a very hard edge; one that threatened imminent violence. “Oh do shut the fuck up. You know how we dare. You and all of your Aurors couldn’t stop us. In fact, there’s no one in the entire Ministry who could stop us.”

Amelia knew that was true. She also knew that the threat against Fudge was real. He lived in an open, secluded area a hundred clicks north of the city and it was supremely vulnerable to the kind of attack that the girls were threatening.

Finally Amelia burst out, “I can’t just let her go! Too many people have heard what she did. Too many folks would ask questions! I’d be run out of office!”  
Harley leaned on the desk with both hands, looked at her hard, and then started crushing her throat with her magic. When it was clear that she had gotten the message, Harley released her. “Run out of office is better than squashed from orbit, Lady Bones, wouldn’t you say?”

Amelia looked at her and realized that she had 3’s over 2’s in her hand while Harley Ross was holding Aces over 8’s. “Ok, ok. Fine. I will tell Fudge that for his own good that Minerva needs a pardon and needs to be released. Then I don’t expect to hear from either of you, ever again.”

“Behave yourself and mind your own business and you won’t.” Harley said, with a coldness in her voice that Amelia feared. Hermione tossed Amelia her wand, then took Harley’s hand and in an instant, the two had faded to black and disappeared.

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**Hogwarts Great Hall, Monday, September 28th – 7am**

Sirius Black was in a mood and it wasn’t good. His god-daughter had, according the paper, “convinced” the Lady Bones that Minerva McGonagall needed a full, unconditional pardon and a release, which meant that Harley had ‘talked’ with Amelia and convinced the woman that doing what Harley wanted was good for her health. As Headmaster, he wasn’t sure what to do about that, but he was absolutely convinced that the girl needed a talking-to about it.

The only difficulty with trying to discipline Harley was that he had to separate it out from his duties as Headmaster and he wasn’t absolutely convinced that she had actually done anything that was punishable under the Hogwarts Charter. Threatening the head of the DMLE was probably bad form and maybe even unlawful, but it wasn’t something punishable under the rules laid down in Hogwarts: A History. He ruminated about the rules regarding “respecting elders” and “cooperating with authorities”, but neither of those really fit, since there was nothing to say that she didn’t “respect her elders” under the terms laid down in the book, nor was there anything to say that she hadn’t cooperated with authorities. There was, of course, circumstantial evidence that she forced them to cooperate with her, but that was beside the point. He felt sad that Susan Bones had come to him, concerned that Hermione and Harley were going to be mad at her for what Amelia had tried to do and he had had to work very hard to convince her that the girls didn’t feel that way at all and that they held her harmless in the whole affair.

The morning’s Daily Prophet had gone to great lengths, in fact, to praise Harley and Hermione for their “staunch defense” of the former deputy headmistress and their “loyal friendship”. It was immediately clear that someone had gotten to the editorial staff at the paper as well and convinced them that badmouthing the two girls might be really problematic for them.

Minerva had stayed silent during the entire time and not given so much as a single word of an interview with anyone. That, Sirius thought, served her interests, since it made her look like a victim or a pawn, instead of an active participant in a multi-decade collaboration with a man who was clearly guilty as sin and someone who had violated hundreds of people’s rights and freedoms.

Students in the school were torn, of course. Some really liked Minerva because she had no tolerance for stupid, boy-ish, boorish behavior. Others really liked her because being an Animagus is just cool and they admired the hard work that Minerva had gone to in order to be one. Others disliked the former deputy headmistress for her disciplinary tactics, her Scottish brogue, and clearly partisan views towards Quidditch and Gryffindor House.

Harley loved her because she had been the path to Isabelle, and that single fact outweighed all others. Hermione loved Minerva because Minerva was smart and dignified and didn’t put up with stupid people.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Highlands of Scotland, on the border of McGonagall Clan territory, Forests of Glen Moore, Morning of October 1st, 1992**

Minerva McGonagall appeared, in handcuffs, between two tall Aurors. One was tall and black and had a single earring and the other was tall, female, and had wavy pink hair. The three looked around, and seeing that they were alone, the two Aurors released the old woman’s handcuffs.

“Thank you, Shack. I dinna think that I’d ever be free of those.”

“Neither did I, Minerva. I don’t know what Fudge was told, but he told us to expedite your release.”

“You’re really lucky, Professor. Most people never leave Azkaban.” Auror Tonks said, with a smile on her face.

“Aye, and I know. The Headmaster… “

“He won’t make it long, Minerva. You know that” the tall, black Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt said. Minerva looked at him and nodded sadly. It made her really said to see all those decades of talent and achievement, including an Order of Merlin, First Class, end in magical suppression cuffs and a permanent stay in Azkaban.

“Where are you going to go, Professor?”

Minerva looked at the woods that surrounded them and shrugged, helplessly. She had been forbidden a wand and she had almost no money to her name, so the woods looked more than a bit cold and foreboding. “I don’t know, Nymphadora. I just don’t know. I don’t even know where I am.”

That made Nymphadora Tonks cry. “C’mon Shack, before I lose it entirely.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked at his former Transfiguration teacher and put out his hand. “You were always my favorite” he said with a voice choking with emotion. He thought it lousy that Minerva was just being tossed to the wolves and abandoned, with no resources and no wand. However, orders were orders.

“Goodbye, Shack. Take care of yourself.”

In the next moment, the two Aurors were gone, leaving an old woman alone, in a multi-thousand acre forest, with no wand, no gold, no Athame, and no idea where she was. For the first time in her life, Minerva McGonagall was truly scared.

It was for that reason that the voice, behind her, almost caused her a heart-attack. “I thought that they’d never leave!”

Minerva whipped around and saw Hermione Ross grinning at her. An Invisibility Cloak… the cloak, slipping from her shoulders.  
“What? You think that Harley or I would let those two idiots just dump you here, without resources? Without friends or a wand or anything?”

Minerva didn’t even know what to say. “Harley would have been here, but she’s covering for us at school. She sent me because I’m so far ahead in class that no one can say anything about my schoolwork.”

For the first time in too many months, Minerva laughed; her Scottish brogue filling the meadow. “Aye lass, that sounds like you.”

Hermione had the good sense to blush and not say anything. After a moment, Hermione walked forward and handed Minerva, very carefully (so as not to actually touch it) her personal Athame. It was still wrapped in the cloth into which it had been put when Minerva was arrested.

It was a very, very old Athame, from before the time of the Roman invasion of the Kingdom, and it was known not to like very many people. “Here. We kept this safe for you. No one has touched it since you left the school.” It had been Minerva’s foresight to leave the Athame behind, in her office, so that it didn’t get taken from her forcibly when she went to testify at the Wizengamot.

Hermione held out a moke-skin bag as well. “Here. This is linked directly to your vault. Harley saw to it that you’ll never, ever want for anything, for as long as you live.”

“Child, I… “

“You did more for us that we can say. You rescued Harley when she was a baby, and set her life on entirely new path. You gave her a mother who loves her. Don’t you think that she’d do anything for you?”

Minerva had never cried in front of a student, but it was hard not to do so in the moment. The care and fore-thought that the two young girls had put into protecting her was overwhelming.

“We can’t get you a wand yet, but Isabelle has a plan for that. However, we need to take you where you’ll be safe and no one will be able to find you.” Hermione held out her hand. “Close your eyes. This form of travel is really, really awful if you open your eyes while you’re moving.”

“You’re going to show me how you pop about now?”

“Shhhhh. Just trust me and close your eyes.”

“Ok, lass. Ready when you are.” Hermione took Minerva’s hand in hers, closed her eyes, and the two shimmered into blackness and disappeared.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Evening of October 1st, 1992 – Hogwarts School, 3rd year girl’s dorm – Gryffindor**

“What are they talking about now?” Hermione said quietly to Harley, as Fay Dunbar, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and Afshan Azad sat on Lavender’s bed and flipped through the latest copy of Witch Weekly.

“Don’t know. Something stupid I’m sure. I heard them talking about some boy-band earlier and then they got going on whether Lavender’s mother is going to send her a new make-up kit from a store in Diagon Alley. I stopped listening at that point.”

Hermione giggled. She has no patience either for tween immaturity either. “I cut them out hours ago. I was trying to read your mother’s notes about isolating wards and areas of confinement and how, when you’re using certain glyphs, you have to make sure that they’re magically balanced. She lost me at the point where she started talking about linear polarity in ward matrices.”

Harley snorted. “You’re ahead of me then. I lost it when she started talking about areas of confinement. However, I did pick up on something that helped me with the music bit.”

Capturing music magically and using it to enhance area effects was something that Harley had been working on for the better part of three months and not solving it was really nagging at her. “It turns out that the same magic that allows the paintings in the Castle to speak can be used to contain recorded sounds. I used my voice as a test and found out that I can capture it by imprinting it in gold filigree that’s been spelled to absorb it. The play-back rate is determined by using runes to control the time of the playback and the forcefulness or volume of the playback.”

Hermione looked at her with her jaw hanging down. “That’s brilliant! I bet no one’s ever thought of doing it that way before.”

Harley smiled. “I don’t think so either. I’m going to test it by painting some of the chess pieces with gold lattice-work, under a magnifying glass, and seeing if I can’t give them voices of their own, based on some of the voices in the Castle.”

Hermione sat and thought and then casually summoned one of her notebooks from across the room, along with a pen and one of her books. It didn’t go unnoticed. The four girls on Lavender’s bed went quiet as the items flew across the room and landed on Hermione’s bed.

Parvati got off Lavender’s bed and walked over to where Hermione and Harley were. “Hermione?”

Hermione stopped what she was doing and looked at the beautiful, bashful girl. “Hi. Something I can do for you?”

“Hmmm. I… well, the girls and I were talking. Is there anything that you can’t do? You make magic look so easy!”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve struggled with a lot of magic, actually. I’m still learning magical theory and I’m not very good at Runes or magical math, so I think that there’s a lot that I can’t do… yet. But if it just requires power, well… I seem to have a bit of that.”

“Could you…. Summon a dragon? Or a demon?” she asked quietly.

“Dragon? Yes. What kind?”

“Could you summon a Hebridean?”

“Yea. But why would I?”

“Because it would be amazing?”

Hermione looked at Harley, who shrugged and then said, “Your call, sweetie.”

Parvati looked at both of them in awe. “Really?”

“If I do this, you’ll leave us alone for the rest of the year? You’ll not ask anything more?”

“I promise” the Indian girl said, agog that her powerful roommate had agreed to do something so amazing.

“Ok. So Saturday, at noon, on the Quidditch pitch. I will summon your dragon. Then you’re going to teach everyone about the Dragon. You’re going touch the dragon, you’re going to look at it, eye to eye, and you’re to know that dragon inside and out. Agreed?”

Parvati hesitated, but then finally agreed…. And then she ran back to Lavender’s bed and the whole agreement came pouring out of her mouth, a mile a minute. Harley smirked and looked at her wife, earning an eye-roll in response.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Saturday, October 3rd, 1992 – Noon – the Quidditch Pitch of Hogwarts**

Harley and Hermione Ross walked out onto Hogwarts’ Quidditch pitch and looked at the assembled horde in the stands. Practically everyone in the school had turned out. Sirius Black looked down at his god-daughter and her wife and wondered, not for the first time, just what the Hell he had gotten himself into. Isabelle, holding his hand, looked down at her daughter and smiled. She had no doubt that the girls were going to be able to do exactly what they had promised. No one knew, save for her and Hermione, that Harley was a Parselmouth and could talk to dragons. It was going to be a shock to everyone, but she had no problem with it. She hadn’t even told Sirius, because she thought that the shock would be good for him, and funny to boot.

Hermione was dressed in her best robes, with her house sigil prominently featured while Harley was dressed in all black, with the house sigils of Potter and Ross featured on her left breast and shoulder.

At precisely Noon, Hermione stepped up and made herself heard: “Students, Professors, Deputy Headmistress, Headmaster. Thank you for coming. I’m doing this because I was asked to by one of my roommates and because some of you are… doubtful. I want to set your doubts aside. Today I am going summon a Hebridean Black dragon. Be assured that the dragon will be under my control the entire time. I will then stand aside and my roommate, Parvati Patil, will teach all of you about the dragon. You will even get a chance to see the dragon up close, if you choose to do so. However, I will warn you that the dragon I am going to summon is a wild animal. He will be under my control yes, but he will still have a right to defend himself. If even one of you does something stupid and tries to hurt this dragon, I will feed you to the dragon. Are we clear on that?”

When not enough people responded, Hermione pushed magic into her voice and said, “ARE WE CLEAR ON THAT?”

“Yes, Hermione” the group said aloud. It wasn’t exactly the robust response that she had sought, but it would have to do. “Now, one more thing” Hermione said aloud, her voice amplified all over the stadium, “Don’t even fucking think about trying this yourself. You’ll get yourself killed or you’ll die of magical exhaustion. I am the second-most powerful person here and this will be an effort, even for me. Are we clear about that?”

The response was louder and more intense. “Good. Now. I want all of you to put your wands away. Stray magic could be a problem when I do this and not a single one of you wants that. I am going to open what my love now calls a “Hermione Hole” and I am going to pull the dragon to me. He’s not going to be happy about it. I will have to calm him and reassure him and if even one of you interrupts me, I am going to remember it and I will make you regret it. Are we clear on that?”

Finally, the response was clear and it was robust in the affirmative. Sirius watched, admiring the way that Hermione was commanding the audience. It was impressive and he hoped that he, when it became necessary, would be able to do the same thing, with the same kind of confidence and panache.

Isabelle looked down as Harley stood by her wife’s side and both saw and felt that Harley was weaving magic, creating wards and building a shield all the way around the perimeter of the stadium floor. She could feel Harley pulling magic from everyone, pulling it from the air, and from the grounds themselves.

Harley leaned in and said, “I love you, Hermione. Your show now.”

Hermione reached down into her core and felt her magic. She felt Harley’s magic, wrapped all around her, supporting and protecting her and she felt the magic of Hogwarts and the ley-lines that crisscrossed the area. Closing her eyes, she pictured the dragon that she wanted to summon. Holding that image in her mind, she opened the same kind of portal that she had used to get to her parents’ house at the beginning of the summer.

The dragon fought her hard. Its magic was strong and it resisted being pulled across such a distance… but it had nothing to which it could anchor itself and inexorably, it was pulled into the vortex and across the thousand miles between its home and Hogwarts.

People gasped as the dragon began to appear. It was huge. It was close to one hundred feet long, with shimmering black, armored scales, steel claws and teeth, and bejeweled eyes. It massed more than eleven tons (twenty-two thousand pounds). When the portal closed behind the dragon, Harley stepped out and confronted it. §Peace, great one§

The dragon did what all dragons do when threatened. It let go with a massive blast of fire. Unfortunately, it wasn’t dealing with an ordinary threat.

People gasped and screamed in the stands as the fire poured out and over Harley, disappearing her temporarily in a blinding white heat that was impossible to look at straight on.

When the dragon’s fire was done, the dragon saw that Harley was still standing, unfazed. It was even more surprised when Harley looked up at the massive creature and said, § Stop that §

§A speaker? §

§Yes. I am. You are safe. No one will hurt you here. You’ve been summoned because we need you. We need to learn about you and see you up close. I promise you food – more than you can imagine – less than 100 wing-beats from here. §

§You swear it, little one? §

§I swear it. Now, I am little, but I am powerful, great one. My mate brought you here, but I am the one who protects all those § And Harley pointed to everyone in the stands, §Who are watching this happen. They want to meet you. What do I call you?”

§ My name is Matu §

§ Matu? That is a good name. It means ‘Gift of the Maker” in one of our languages.” §

The dragon ceased waving its tail threateningly and looked at Harley for a moment.

§ That is good then? §

§ Yes. It’s very good. It will be remembered by all who see you. It’s a noble name. §

Hermione watched and listened as Harley spoke with the dragon. It was one thing to know that your wife is a Parselmouth, it was quite another to see it in action. For her part, Isabelle looked down, quivering with fear, as her daughter reached out and patted the enormous black dragon on the nose. It was something that only those with really, really enormous stones could do that casually.

§ You’re beautiful, Matu. There are creatures all over this world and none of them are quite as powerful-looking or as terrifying as you. If I came back in another life, I’d want to be like you. §

Dragons are, by their very natures, the vainest of creatures. They like being admired and being told that they are beautiful is a quick way to a dragon’s heart.

§ Of course, little one. I am the most powerful of my kind. All the female dragons admire my scales and my powerful teeth and horns. §

Harley laughed and said, § I am a female of my kind and you are right. You are the most beautiful and powerful of your kind. It’s no wonder that all females admire you! §

§ I should add you to my harem, little one, if you are female. You could serve me and feed me.§

§ I would be honored, if I didn’t have my own female to serve and protect already. She is powerful like me and she brought you here. §

§ I don’t understand. You don’t like males? §

§ No. I love a female. I am different than most of my kind, but I found her and she loves and protects me, just like I love and protect her. §

The students in the stands were watching a real-time translation of the conversation between Harley and the dragon, courtesy of one of Harley’s special, magical banners. When Harley admitted that she loved Hermione, there were gushy ooow’s and awww’s from many of the students, who thought that the love-story between Harley and Hermione was something very special.

§ How did you come to be so powerful, little one? § Matu asked, poking Harley with his snout.

§ I was born into powerful families. Their powers all came to me, since I’m the last of my family on both sides – my mother and my father. § Harley replied, quite honestly.

§ And your mate? §

§ She comes from a powerful family too. §

§ You will have to explain that to me some more. §

§ I will when we have the time. However, there are many who would like to see you up close. Would you permit it? Would you allow them to come and admire you? I swear that no one will even so much as lift a hand near you. §

Matu thought about that, but decided that the students in the stands didn’t look like threats. § I will permit it. §

Harley nodded to Hermione, who had recovered somewhat from her exertions. Hermione turned towards the stands and said with a magnified voice, “Alright. I want two ORDERLY lines at the end of the field. Now. Quietly. Line up by year. One boy, one girl. Move.”

Sirius wasn’t going to miss out on seeing a dragon up close. He led the students, along with Isabelle and the Deputy Headmistress, Jane Court, down to the edge of the pitch, where he had them line up as Hermione had asked. Even fifty yards away, Matu was gorgeous. In the fall sun, the dragon’s scales shimmered and shown and the last three feet of his tail gleamed with sharp, black, metallic spikes, culminating in two huge spikes that went out at a V, like weapons.

Parvati and a boy Hermione didn’t know from Hufflepuff came up first. They moved quietly and carefully, until they were right next to Harley. “Harley, please tell him how beautiful he is and thank him for not being mad at us. This is SO amazing, getting to see him up close!”

Harley nodded and relayed her room-mates’ message. Matu butted Parvati with his snout and let her touch him, which almost made the girl convulse with joy. She wrapped her arms around him, stroked his eye-ridges for a moment and then went off, teary-eyed with happiness. The boy, whom Harley didn’t know, extended his hand, tentatively, and gently touched Matu’s snout. “Tell him that I will never forget this, Harley.”

Harley smiled at him and relayed the message. The boy, too, went off almost crying with happiness.

§ I think you’ve made a huge impression, Matu. Thank you so much for this. §

§ You’re welcome, little one. I can smell each one and feel them. None of them feel like you do.

It’s as if you’re one of us. §

§ I and my mate are as different from the rest of the students her as we can be. If any of them had tried to bring you here, they would have died with the effort. Most of the students here fear us for our power, just like they see you and tremble from your power and might. §

The last bits weren’t translated, so no one knew what Harley said to the dragon, but everyone saw him rub his face against hers and that _definitely_ got their attention.

The review continued until, at last, Sirius, Isabelle, and Jane came up. Sirius, being the most powerful of the three, could feel the dragon’s power, but the reverse was true as well. § You’re not what you seem, human. There is something else under your skin. §

Harley translated that directly to him and he smiled. “Tell him that I can become a magical dog, a Grim, and that that’s what he’s feeling in me.”

Harley did so. The dragon turned his head to look at Sirius directly, and up close. Sirius kept his hands by his side, though he took a small step closer, in order to show Matu that he wasn’t afraid. “Can I touch him, Harley?” Sirius asked.

“Yes, but make sure both of your hands are visible, and move slowly. He doesn’t mind you touching his snout and he likes his eye-ridges being scratched.”

Sirius did so and he marveled at the metallic feel of the scales, yet the warmth of the dragon’s body. “He’s warm. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Harley relayed that last bit and Matu rumbled with dragon-laughter. Sirius looked at her and Harley relayed that Matu found that funny.

Both Isabelle and Jane touched Matu after Sirius, but they were more hesitant, even with Harley standing there talking to the dragon. Isabelle looked at her daughter with wonder and amazement as Harley stroked the dragon’s eye ridges and caressed his massive head, as it if it were nothing to be so close to such a powerful creature. Hermione joined her and the two of them talked to the dragon, through Harley. Being a Parselmouth wasn’t something that could be shared, even for someone in such a tight magical bond.

Finally, it was time to go. Hermione asked everyone to return to his or her seat, except for Parvati, who has some teaching to do.

§ I’m coming with you, so that I can show you where your meal is. I think you will be very pleased. §

§ How will you lead me? §

Harley lifted herself up, into the air, with no apparent means of flight, and looked down, § Like this §

Hermione did a double-take. She had never seen Harley fly unaided, before. Actually, no one had ever seen someone fly unaided before, but that was beside the point. She had talked about what she thought it might take, but that was during one of their lazy, lay-a-bed mornings when they had talked about everything while whispering sweet nothings. She had no idea that Harley had figured it out, but she wasn’t really surprised, either.

§ Follow me § she said to Matu. He sprang into the air, his massive wings spreading out and lifting him easily into the beautiful afternoon sky.

Everyone watched as Harley and the dragon flew off towards the heart of the Forbidden forest. Some cried openly, as they watched someone do something that they had only dreamed about doing. Draco sat back and thought about what he had had just experienced. Being told that he was going to have a unique experience didn’t even begin to describe what it was like to not only touch a dragon, but to be allowed to rub the dragon’s eye-ridges, touch his teeth, and be gifted one of the dragon’s shed scales. No one else had been given such a gift!

When Parvati got up to teach, it was almost anti-climactic. She was a great teacher though and people soon found themselves listening to what she had to say. She wove stories about dragons from India and Asia into her recitation of known facts about dragons, along with some of the things that Matu had told her about himself that no one else had heard. When she was done, there was wide-spread applause for her effort, and fifty house-points awarded to her for her efforts, which was more than twice what a great student would expect to receive in any given two-week period.

Hermione, for her part, declined the points she would have been awarded (one hundred) for her effort in bringing Matu to the school, using heretofore unknown magic, since she really didn’t believe in the house-and-points system. Harley would have, Sirius knew, also declined the points she was awarded (one hundred) for her creation of a brand new magic as well as her excellent demonstration of the value of Parseltongue in speaking with a Dragon, but she wasn’t given the chance to do so, since they were awarded by Deputy Headmistress Court.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

By the time that Harley returned, the school had decamped from the stadium and the grounds were quiet. No one saw her return Matu to his home with nothing more than a wave of her hand. Not even Hermione, who would have just shaken her head and wondered, not for the first time, if her wife had any limits on her magic at all.

The Great Hall was quiet, since there was more than an hour and half before dinner started, and it left Harley to walk the long Hall alone. She wasn’t really looking for anyone, since she knew Hermione was in the library, along with most of their room-mates, as well as Draco, Daphne, and several others.

When she saw the big, black Grim, she smiled and ran to him/it. “Sirius?”

He licked her face and butted her hand with his cold, wet nose before morphing back into her Godfather.

“Heya, kiddo. Love you. Really proud of you and Hermione today. That was great work. I never, ever expected to be that close to a Hebridean Black.”

Harley snorted and then smiled at him. “You and me both. I didn’t know what Hermione was going to pull out of her bag of tricks, but Matu’s spirit must have called to her the strongest.”

“Where is he now? Did you leave him in the forest?” Sirius asked, interested to know if they were going to have any forest left, after the dragon got through hunting for dinner.

“No, I sent him back. He made short work of the Acromantula colony though. That giant spider? Jesus, he was big. Eighteen feet high when the stood on all eight legs. Matu killed him and I got all the venom.”

“Merlin, Harley. You know how to score. Do you know how much that stuff is worth?”

Harley nodded and then grinned like a loon. “A fair bit. It will pay for your wedding, when you and my mum make it official.”

“Oh you!” Sirius made a move to smack her bum, since only he could get away with it, but she skipped out of reach. “Be nice!”

Sirius put on a playful-hurt expression, before he turned more well… serious. “I need you to come with me to my office.”

She looked at him, shrugged, and then took his hand. He surprised her by Apparating them both right to his office.

When they landed, Harley looked at him quizzically.

“Yea, yea. I just learned that as Headmaster, I can do that. I also learned that you can too, with that thing that you do. Apparently, the school’s wards aren’t tuned to that at all and there’s nothing to stop it. That’s a problem. I can’t have students popping all around, evading the teachers and leaving the school grounds, simply because they can.”  
She looked at him and asked him the question that all adults hate: “Why not?”  
He pursed his lips before replying, “Because students can get into trouble and we’re supposed to be looking out for everyone. If students are popping about, it keeps us from knowing where everyone is and what they’re up to, and it makes it really hard for us to say to parents with a straight face that students are in our charge all the time.”  
Harley shrugged and then sat down. “Da, I’m sorry. You’re out of luck though. All of the students know how to pop around now. We’ve taught everyone” except for the professors, she didn’t add. And she didn’t bother to add that they were teaching everyone to create the vortices technique that Hermione used to get herself home.  
“I was afraid you were going to say that. You’ve made our headaches ten times worse by doing that.”  
He paused for a moment and then sat back against his desk. “Is there anything else that you’ve taught the students that we need to know about?”  
“Well, since I was put in charge of teaching DADA to the first-through-third year students, we’ve taught them a few things.”  
Sirius turned colder, since that was how he was feeling. “Be specific”.  
Harley knew she couldn’t now play word-games with him and had to be clear with him. She owed him that much and she really did love him, so lying straight-out was not in the cards. “We’ve taught them how to pop-around, like you said, we’ve taught them shields and how to aim. We’ve taught them a piercing hex as well as a silver-arrow curse… you know.. for werewolves, etc. We’ve taught them the flame-whip and how to conjure boulders.”  
Sirius’ headache was coming on strong, as all of the problems that he could foresee started to materialize as realities. “What kind of boulders?”  
Harley described the technique that they had taught, about pulling boulders down on people. “Jane!”  
Sirius looked around, waiting until his deputy showed up. “You”, he pointed to Harley. “Sit. Stay.”  
When the Deputy Headmistress showed up, Sirius said, “It’s everything you feared, but about ten times worse. Little miss ‘I’m-going-to-kill-you’ here, my beloved god-daughter, has taught the students how to do snap-Conjury with boulders. We can’t run a dueling contest if the students can pop about on the dueling platform and then drop rocks on each other or use piercing hexes, or any of the other horrific things that they’ve been taught to do.”  
“Shit.”  
“Yea, that was my take on it too. All the other schools have regular dueling tournaments and they send their best to the European conference, but I don’t dare do that with our group, because they’d be thrown out for either cheating or killing someone.”  
Sirius turned to Harley. “No, you can’t go. You’ve already been banned by name. So has Hermione. None of the schools are willing to even send their teachers to face you two. Fuck! Harley. I love you. I love the fact that I’m your Godfather, but I’m not even willing to face either one of you, and I’m one of the best in the Kingdom. Ok, so not as good as Filius, but even he’s not willing to face you two either. You’re much, much too strong for anyone to face. They said explicitly that they couldn’t even build wards to shield against the kind of magic that you’re known to throw around!”  
Hearing that Sirius was willing to admit that he loved her caused some tears to form in her eyes and she looked at him, attentive to what he was saying in a way that she hadn’t been before. As he spoke, it began to dawn on Harley that being immensely powerful very much had its down-side. She had thought that being in the tournament would be great fun.  
Wiping her eyes, she said, “Could we go as a demonstration team?”  
“That would be great, god-daughter of mine, but what exactly would you demonstrate? How to pull meteors out of the atmosphere? How to turn Aurors into people gibbering in fear? Just exactly would you demonstrate that anyone else could actually do?”  
“Well, I did work out how to fly without a broom… that might work. Hermione figured out how to ward an area and create weather-effects in that area using Runes. That’s gotta be worth something?”

Jane looked at Sirius. “Might work. Certainly could try. No one’s seen that before.”  
“Anything else?” Sirius said, turning once more to Harley.  
“I figured out how to trap recorded music into a gold-leaf lattice, using control runes done in gold. It’s not perfect yet, but I’m getting there.”  
“You mean like taking a record or a CD and trapping it in a runic array?”  
Harley nodded. “Something like that, only smaller and easier.”  
Jane looked at her. “Headmaster? Why the fuck, if you’ll pardon my language, isn’t your god-daughter working for the DoM?”  
He looked at her with a grin and then said, “Jane. Think about what you just said and then tell me why you’d want to let her or Hermione loose in that department, with all those interesting toys and things.”

Jane thought about it for a moment before shaking her head and saying, “Yea. Sorry. Forget that I even said that.”  
Now they really had Harley’s interest perked up. She was going to have to make a side-trip to the DoM some afternoon and have a look-see. If Sirius was that worried about turning her loose down there, there had to be some really good stuff her and Hermione to get their hands on.  
Sirius looked at her and could see the wheels turning in her head. “Don’t even think about it!”  
Harley grinned, impishly. “Sorry!”  
“No!”  
“Yes!”  
“Duck season!”  
  


“Rabbit Season!”  
  


“Rabbit Season!”  
  


“Fire!” they said together, laughing hysterically, leaving Jane Court completely in the dark.  
Sirius looked at her and said, “I’ll show you some time. It would take too long to explain now.”  
Harley looked at him and said, “Love you, Da.” Before she shimmered to black and disappeared.  
Sirus swore. “I hate it when she does that! I’ve got no idea where she’s gone and the Castle can’t even see her.”  
“That’s not the only problem, Headmaster. It seems that there are suddenly a lot more house-elves in the school than there were and, apparently, they all report to Dobby, Harley’s house-elf. If I were a suspicious person, and after working for Saul Croaker, you better believe I am, I’d think that someone might be building up a capability and an intelligence network that’s second-to-none and that no one would recognize if they didn’t already have a really suspicious turn-of-mind.”  
Sirius sighed, exasperatedly. “No, you’re not paranoid. The network is real. Harley and Hermione have been recruiting and bonding freed elves just as fast as they’re becoming available. She’s building an army. An army for what, I don’t know, but no one sees the elves coming and going, just like no one expects the Spanish Inquisition, and that’s by design. I wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t become headmaster. Harley hasn’t told me, but there’s something going on that is not right, and she’s trying to get ahead of it.”  
Jane shivered. “And I thought that the Unspeakables had power.”  
“Power is relative, Jane. I’m considered pretty bad-ass, either in my human or Animagus form because I can pull lightning from a bare sky, but I don’t even rate a thought compared to Harley or by her. I’m a flea compared to her and while she acknowledges that, she doesn’t judge me for it. I just don’t matter in her world. I was going to warn her about that seventh-year boy who’s trying to line up to take a pot-shot at her, but he’ll get his soon enough. If she doesn’t kill him outright, which she might, and I’m certainly not going to stop her, he might find himself in the middle of the Forbidden forest, naked and alone, in the middle of the night, with no wand and whether he gets out or not is a sucker’s bet.”  
Jane thought about all the ways there were to die in the Forbidden forest and each and every one of them made her skin crawl.  
“And you can’t or aren’t forced to do something about that?”  
“What? I’m obligated, as Headmaster, to act to protect a student who is actively about to die. I can’t attack a student. I’m obligated not to do something that would deliberately endanger a student, but I’m not obligated to act before a student does something, or to pre-empt a student who chooses to act in a rash and stupid matter later on. If he attacks either Hermione or Harley, and one of her elves drops him into the middle of the Forbidden Forest at night, naked… well, that’s his look-out. If you poke the dragon… well, you know the rest.”  
“Better than you might realize.” She replied, thinking about what she had been told about what had happened at the Hogwarts Express platform at the beginning of the summer and what had just recently happened to Amelia Bones in her losing confrontation with the two girls. What do you do about two young (tween) girls who have more power than all of the magical people in the whole area combined? And what do you do when their give-a-fuck buttons are broken? How do you get girls like that to control themselves and not just kill everyone who opposes them?  
Jane Court wasn’t Isabelle. She wasn’t even Minerva McGonagall. She wasn’t old enough to have the wisdom to recognize the obvious answer: You teach them to care. You teach them the cost of god-like power. She was smart enough to talk to someone though and Jane made a note to go and talk to her old boss, in the hope that he would have something wise to say to her. She’d turn out to be right.  
****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Monday, October 5th, 1992 – after dinner – Slytherin 3rd year girl’s dorm room**

Millicent Bulstrode was not a happy girl. She was ‘big-boned’, which was to say that she was heavier than most of the girls around her. She hated her looks and felt sad and ashamed of her face, her hair, her looks, and most especially, her weight. She wasn’t fat as most Muggle girls understood the term, but she wasn’t thin either. She was much closer to a healthy weight for her a girl her age than she knew, but she didn’t feel pretty or attractive and that made her retreat into the new diary that she had found in her father’s study. On the spine, it had the name T.M. Riddle. And into it, Millicent was pouring out her heart.  
****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Millicent wasn’t alone in feeling either unloved or unwelcome. Ginny Weasley wasn’t happy either, but for an entirely different reason. She was a first-year student, facing a school full of students who all seemed to be able to do things that her parents thought were impossible. They weren’t believing her letters and had already sent a howler, telling her that ‘lying wasn’t appreciated in the Weasley home’.  
The difference between Ginny and Millicent though was the presence of two brothers, twins, who loved their baby sister a lot, and weren’t willing to stand by and see her sadness. No, they knew exactly what to do and where to go. The third-year Gryffindor girls’ dorm-room.  
Fred and George found their sister, crying her eyes out, in her bed, in the 1st-year Gryffindor-girls’ dorm.  
“Hey sis”  
Ginny looked up and saw the smiling faces of Gred and Forge, her twin brothers. “Go away” she said, though her tears said otherwise.  
“No can do, sister of ours. Weasleys stick together, and even if your brother moRon is a total prat, we’re not going to let you be alone like this. Mom and Dad don’t know what’s going on here and they wouldn’t believe us, and we’ve tried to tell them.”  
Ginny looked at them and wondered what they were really saying. “So?”  
Fred, she was pretty sure, said, “So… we’re going to take you to the two people who can help you.”  
Ginny’s eyes went wide. She knew who Fred and George were talking about. Them. The God-Empresses of Hogwarts. “C’mon. We can’t keep them waiting. We told them that this wouldn’t take very long and we already can’t afford the favor that we’re going to have to do for them in exchange for them seeing you.”  
Ginny scrambled into her shoes and made sure that her Hogwarts skirt and blouse were arranged properly. The House of Weasley was a minor house and barley noticeable at all in comparison to the first of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and she had to make sure that she didn’t totally embarrass her family name and drive its reputation even further into obscurity that it already was.  
Hermione Dagworth-Ross was curled up on one of the overstuffed love-chairs that faced the fireplace when Fred and George Weasley knocked on the dorm-room door. They were greeted by an elf, dressed in fine brown robes, and wearing the crest of the House of Ross. The only difference was that this elf was a third again taller than all other elves and he carried himself with dignity and alertness.  
“Who comes to see my mistress?”  
“Fred, George, and Ginevra Weasley, of the House of Weasley.”  
“Dobby was told to expect you. Dobby thinks red-haired tricksters need to be careful in the presence of my mistress. Mistress has threatened to turn them into slugs, she has.”  
George swallowed hard and looked at his twin brother. “You sure this was a good idea?”  
Fred was having his doubts too and looked at his twin. “Just… easy does it. Tell her what we’re trying to do and let her do the talking, ok?” The last part was delivered very quietly.  
Fred, George, and Ginny followed the elf over to where Hermione was sitting and reading. “Lady Dagworth-Ross?” Fred began.  
“Hermione. My name’s Hermione. You both know how I feel about the formality crap. Now, what can I do for you?”  
Ginny looked at Hermione, curtsied as her role as the youngest daughter of a minor house demanded, and then said, “Hermione, my parents don’t believe when I’ve written to them about what we’ve learned from you and Harley so far this year. They sent me a Howler, accusing me of lying…” Ginny started to tear up again and that made Hermione mad.  
“Oh really. Have you ever lied to them before?” Hermione asked softly, doing her best to keep any hint of accusation out of her voice  
Ginny thought about that for a moment. “Only about kissing Luna, once.”  
Hermione’s left eyebrow shot up and she wondered, because she was Harley’s wife and knew what it was to love another girl, what the story was behind that bit of news.  
“Do you have a picture of your house, from the outside?”  
“If she doesn’t, we do” George volunteered.  
Hermione nodded. “Good. Go get it.”  
George, the slightly taller twin, turned and ran off. It took him two minutes to come back with a wizarding photo of the Burrow. He handed it to Hermione.  
“What say we go have a conversation with your parents?” Hermione asked, casually.  
Ginny looked at her, in shock. “Right now?”  
“Why not? We have an hour or two and we should be able to set this straight faster than that.” Hermione didn’t say, but the twins knew, that the Weasley Family already owed Hermione a life-debt for her having saved their brother Ron from certain death at the claws and beak of a Hippogriff named Buckbeak and that they would not be happy to be confronted by her for having accused Ginny of lying. However, they also knew that Ginny had told them nothing but the truth and forcing them to accept that reality would be good for them.  
Hermione got up from where she had been sitting and, with a sweep of her hand, had changed her clothes into jeans and t-shirt, along with trainers and a light jacket. It was the kind of silent transfiguration that blew the boys’ minds.  
“How did you do that?” George finally blurted out.  
“What?”  
“You… you just changed clothes as if…”  
“As if what?” Hermione asked.  
“As if it were nothing! As if it were nothing! That’s something only adults can do!”  
Hermione laughed. “No. You can do it too. It’s just a matter of focus, which is what I’ve been trying to teach all of you. If you can close your eyes and see yourself in the other clothes, you can make your magic do the change. That’s all I’m doing.”  
George and Fred both stared at her. “Look, you two, it’s all just picturing in your minds what you want to have happen and then making your magic do that thing. Can you close your eyes and see yourself in a differently colored t-shirt?”  
Fred thought about that. He looked at his brother’s t-shirt, which was white, and then at his own, which was red. Closing his eyes, Fred tried to picture his own as white. When he opened his eyes, everyone was laughing. Half of his shirt was white and the rest was red. It didn’t follow any pattern, like someone had attacked his t-shirt with a big paint-brush with white on it, but he was definitely half-way there. Hermione giggled, and then said, “It’s a good start.”  
Fred looked at himself in the mirror and had to laugh as well. It was a good start, but it was also really funny.  
Hermione looked at the three of them and then said, “Ready to go?”  
Ginny nodded, excited. Fred looked concerned, but he nodded as well, and George, who was always up for anything, grinned. “Ok. Now, I’m going to open a portal and you three will walk through it. I will follow.”  
Walking to on open spot in the dorm-room, Hermione waved her hands in opposing, concentric circles. A blue-white vortex opened up, hovering just above the ground. “Go.” She said. Ginny went first, the twins second, and Hermione went last, closing the circle behind her as she went.  
****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**The Burrow, in the magical village of Ottery St. Catchpole, to the east of Fairmile Lane, outside the town of Ottery St. Mary, East Devon, UK**  


Molly Weasley née Prewett was in the middle of cleaning up the supper-dishes when a blinding light appeared in the garden, in front of the house. Reaching for her wand, she bustled outside to confront whomever had invaded her home. Her daughter, Ginny, was the last person she was expecting.  
“Mom?”  
The voice stopped Molly cold. “Turn around.”  
Molly turned around and saw something that she would have thought was impossible. Ginny was standing in the garden, along with her twin brothers, and the Lady Dagworth-Granger-Ross. Molly was not so far gone that she didn’t’ remember her manners. She bowed, low enough to be respectful, but not as low as she would bow for her sovereign.  
Hermione, knowing the etiquette, inclined her head in acknowledgement of the formal bow. “Thank you, Lady Weasley.”  
Molly looked at her and said, “What brings you to our home? And how, may I ask, did you by-pass our wards?”  
Hermione looked at her and said, quietly, “I’ve come to discuss some matters regarding your daughter. As for your wards, Lady Weasley, I am an Arch-Magus. I’m afraid your wards don’t see me, or if they do, they acknowledge me only in passing.”  
Molly was momentarily at a loss for words. Finally, because it was screaming to be said, she said, “So we’re not protected?”  
“Lady Weasley, you are as protected right now as you’ve been in the past. The only difference is that I am here. There are no wards on Earth, that I know about, that could keep me out. Not even the Americans and MCUSA could keep me out, for all of their fancy technomancy and things.”  
Slowly, Molly’s mind churned. “Is that why Albus could always get in here?”  
“He had a phoenix, Lady Weasley. Totally difference scenario. Nothing in the world can keep that sweet bird out.”  
“So only you, your wife Harley, and Albus? Just the three of you can get in?”  
“More or less. Albus is in prison, and will remain there for the rest of his life. There might be an arch-magus working for or leading MCUSA, but I don’t know the person.”  
Molly looked relieved. “Well, come inside and we can talk. How does that sound?”  
Hermione looked at the twins and said, “Make yourselves scarce for an hour. Ginny’s coming with me.”  
The twins nodded and then ran off. Hermione pulled Ginny to her side and followed Molly into the Burrow. It would turn out to be a painful hour-plus for Molly Weasley née Prewitt. When it was all over, Ginny knew that she had the protection the most powerful family group in greater Europe and Molly Weasley had her world-view re-aligned.  
****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  


Harley Ross was not used to wandering the school alone, but Hermione’s absence had given her at least an hour or more to do just that. The cloak of invisibility that she had gotten from Sirius, that had belonged to her father James Potter, was incredibly convenient. She was thrilled to have it, since it allowed her to pass completely unnoticed into areas where she might otherwise not have known about. Following people unheard, unseen, and unsensed had so far shown her how to get into the common rooms for all three of the other houses. It had also given her access to the ‘secure room’ for potions, where all the good stuff was kept and the Restricted Section in the Hogwarts Library. She had to admit to herself, though, that her personal library was far, far more interesting.  
She and Hermione had collected every book that had been in the Room of Hidden Things and had turned out to be an incredible treasure-trove of stuff. They had even found her mother Lily’s personal potions-notes and alterations, which she had hidden away in the hope that one day, Harry would come along and find it. Well, mission accomplished she thought.  
Her wanderings took her to the Seventh floor and back to the painting of Barnabas the Barmy and the Dancing Trolls. A room where people have hidden anything that weren’t in the Room of Hidden Things. Stuff just too important to leave behind. That’s what she focused on, as she walked up and down the hallway. Eventually, a door appeared. She opened it and looked in. Jackpot.  
  
****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Two hours later – Hermione’s bed**

Hermione was sleeping an uneasy sleep, since she never slept well if her wife wasn’t by her side, so the warm hand that touched her face and her side startled her somewhat.  
“Hermione, love…wake up. I’ve found something and I need you to see it.”  
It took Hermione almost four minutes to come fully awake and when she did, she saw Harley’s bright smile. “Love?”  
“I need you to dress and come with me. I’ve found something that you’ve got to see. I don’t even know what to make of it.”  
Hermione knew her wife well enough to not begrudge an hour or so’s lost sleep. If Harley thought that something was worth seeing, then she’d dress and go. It wasn’t as though she wasn’t already a year ahead in their accelerated studies. With a wave of her hand, she went from almost naked to dressed. “Ready”. Harley took her hand and they closed their eyes, so that Harley could take them where they were going.  
  
****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was standing in front of a box set on an old wooden table. She could tell that it was a very, very, very old wooden box. The Aramaic Greek cross (Tau Rho Cross) on it told her it’s approximate date. It wasn’t a big box. Maybe 10” long, 8” high, and 6” wide.  
Hermione trembled. “It can’t be… “  
“But I think it is, love. I think it might be exactly that.” Harley said, almost as pale as Hermione.  
Using her magic, Harley eased the cover off the box. The old bronze nails telling her a great deal about the age of the box and its probable origin. “I don’t dare look, Hermione. You do it.”  
Hermione’s eyes were already wet with unshed tears. In all of the church experiences she had had at Hogwarts, as she had come face to face with the reality of God and her connection to the powers that had created the world, as well as her connection to Harley, she had never imagined that she would give given this unspeakable responsibility.  
As she approached the table, she could feel it. It was exactly the same feeling as touching Harley’s magic at its fullest expression. Her knees almost buckled and she had to grab the edge of the old table to steady herself. The cup sat cushioned in the box, in a simple brown cloth that was clearly of a very early weave.  
Reaching in, she touched the cup. She remembered the line… You have chosen… wisely.  
She stopped. “I’m not worthy.”  
Harley saw the tears in her wife’s eyes. “But you are, Hermione. Far more than I am.”  
Her voice was rough, but tender.  
“But I’m not, love. You are so beautiful, so powerful. I don’t deserve this gift.”  
“But you do. But the immortality is a myth… I think. But if anyone deserves to touch the Grail, it’s you.”  
Harley’s persistent, unyielding belief in her moved her very soul and she could feel her wife’s unlimited love for her. It was overwhelming. Hermione turned and steadied herself, before reaching into the box and ever so gently lifting the Grail out of the box. When it was free, she turned and brought it to Harley. “Gloria in excelsis Deo”.  
Harley put a hand on the Grail and repeated the phrase. Then she looked at Hermione. “What do we do?”  
“The Green lady” they said together.

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Poppy Pomfrey was still awake, as was her custom on Monday evenings. It gave her a chance to do inventory, plan for student exams, etc. It also gave her a chance to write her notes from the previous week. The knock on her office door was therefore quite unexpected, and not particularly welcome.  
When she got up to answer it, she was more than a little surprised by her visitors. “Ladies? What are you two doing up and wandering around the halls?”  
“Never mind that, Madame Pomfrey. We need to see the Green lady. Right now.”  
Poppy was more than slightly affronted by the request. “Do you now? And what gives you the right to ask for such?”  
“Something more important than you can possibly imagine, Madame Pomfrey. Something that could change the course of History, if not handled properly.”  
That got her attention. “Very well. But if I find you’ve deceived me, I will punish you most harshly.”  
Harley’s reaction internally was As if, but she didn’t say it. There was no point in antagonizing the woman unnecessarily. “Please, Lady Pomfrey. We need this done with alacrity.”  
Standing, Poppy Pomfrey reached into her personal wardrobe and took out her robes, the ones that would give her entrance to the sanctum sanctorum of the Green Lady. When she was ready, she moved with the girls out, into the hallway, and turned to face her office doorway. Poppy took out her wand and tapped three points around the perimeter of her office doorway. The doorway changed colors and then Poppy opened it and bid the girls to walk through.  
Poppy, who was now wearing an ornate, white robe, with the sign of Aesculapius on the chest, said “follow me.”  
The girls followed her down several corridors, until they came to a room that wasn’t unlike the Headmaster’s office, except for the presence of a Phoenix and unexplained magical knick-knacks. There was a Pensieve and a large desk, with several comfortable-looking chairs in front of it.  
Poppy did something to announce their presence and they didn’t have to wait long. A woman; a very, very, very old woman, swept into the room with power, wearing an ornate, green robe, like the one Poppy was wearing, but more ornate. “Again, Hygieia?”  
“Yes, my Lady. I bring Harley and Hermione Ross, of the House of Ross, and they have brought something that they claim is too critical to be left alone. They’ve brought it to you because they trust me and know that I trust you.”  
The old woman assessed them critically. “Who are you, to insist on a meeting with me?”  
“My Lady, I am Harley Janel Ross, originally born Harry James Potter, of the House of Potter. I was adopted, in this body, by my mother, Isabelle Marie Ross, when I was seven. I am First of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I am last of the Potters and I am an Arch-Magus, as is my wife here, Hermione Jane Granger-Dagworth-Ross.”  
The old woman looked at them, seeing them in a new light. “Hygieia spoke of you. Are you truly an Arch-Magus?”  
“Truly, my Lady. There is no one more powerful, anywhere on Earth, as far as we know.”  
The woman thought about that. It was an enormous claim to make. “Hygieia, do they speak the truth?”  
“To the best of my knowledge, my Lady, yes, they do. I have never seen more powerful witches, regardless of age. When Harley and Hermione complete their second magical maturations, there will not be a magic that is beyond their reaches, save for the one that eludes us all.”  
The old woman looked into Harley’s eyes. “Girl, I had heard about someone pulling meteors out of the sky; rocks so big that they could destroy us all, and doing it again and again, as if it were just practice. I didn’t believe it. Was that you?”  
“Hermione and I, yes. We learned that the more we stretched our magic, the better we became.”  
The old woman laughed a deep, rich laugh. “So you are already the stuff of legend. What can I do for you?”  
Hermione stepped forward and held up a box. “My Lady, we discovered this in Hogwarts. We are not… worthy. We brought it to you because we know your soul is pure and your craft is beautiful. Harley and I agreed that you are the only one we know who is worthy.”  
Hermione put the box down on the table and backed away, leaving it for the woman to open, or not.  
Poppy looked at the box and at the Greek cross on the lid of the box. Something deep shivered inside her. Something that said that she was in the presence of something that was far beyond her ken.  
The three, Harley, Hermione, and Poppy, watched the old woman move forward and carefully open the box. After the cover was laid aside, the three watched the Green Lady lift the Grail out of the box and set it on the table. Her eyes, now wet with flowing tears, met theirs. “Why?... “  
“Because you are the only one we know who is blameless.”  
Hermione felt her own tears, but she wasn’t ashamed of them. She had felt herself judged by the cup and found blameless and innocent, worthy of the cup’s blessing, but too young yet to guard the cup. Harley’s tears were different. She too had been judged by the cup and found blameless, but it had warned her of her ego and the possibility of blackness in her soul if she strayed into violent or dangerous magics. Her purity would be found in protecting and loving Hermione.  
The Green Lady lifted the Grail and whispered the words, “Laudamus te! Gloria in excelsis Deo!”  
Poppy Pomfrey watched her lady, the High Witch of the Green Circle, be judged. She wished for the courage to be judged but was deeply afraid of what she might be told.  
The Green Lady looked at them and swallowed hard before saying, “The Grail will reside here, but you, Hermione, are its true guardian. I have been found… wanting. My craft is pure, but my soul is lacking. However, I can do naught but live up to your trust and I swear on my Magic and on my soul that I will live to be worthy of your trust. So Mote it be!”  
Poppy took a deep breath. It was done. She was in awe of the two girls and their courage. She promised herself that whatever else happened, she would follow them and trust them to be the guiding force in her life and medical practice.

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	2. Dawn's New Light - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harley teaches a muggle a certain lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

****

**  
Dawn’s New Light**

Book II

Chapter 2

By ‘the_scribbler’

[the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com](mailto:the_scribbler@shadowgard.com)

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**From Chapter I**

The three, Harley, Hermione, and Poppy, watched the old woman move forward and carefully open the box. After the cover was laid aside, the three watched the Green Lady lift the Grail out of the box and set it on the table. Her eyes, now wet with flowing tears, met theirs. “Why?... “

“Because you are the only one we know who is blameless.”

Hermione felt her own tears, but she wasn’t ashamed of them. She had felt herself judged by the cup and found blameless and innocent, worthy of the cup’s blessing, but too young yet to guard the cup. Harley’s tears were different. She too had been judged by the cup and found blameless, but it had warned her of her ego and the possibility of blackness in her soul if she strayed into violent or dangerous magics. Her purity would be found in protecting and loving Hermione.

She lifted the Grail and whispered the words, “Laudamus te! Gloria in excelsis Deo!”

Poppy Pomfrey watched her lady, the High Witch of the Green Circle, be judged. She wished for the courage to be judged but was deeply afraid of what she might be told. The Green Lady looked at them and swallowed hard before saying, “The Grail will reside here, but you, Hermione, are its true guardian. I have been found… wanting. My craft is pure, but my soul is lacking. However, I can do naught but live up to your trust and I swear on my Magic and on my soul that I will live to be worthy of your trust. So Mote it be!”

Poppy took a deep breath. It was done. She was in awe of the two girls and their courage. She promised herself that whatever else happened, she would follow them and trust them to be the guiding force in her life and medical practice.

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**Wednesday, October 7th, 1992 - Hogwarts**

Hogwarts somehow felt small to Hermione, after the events of Monday night. Things seemed… less important somehow. She wasn’t alone in feeling that, she knew. Harley was, well, sort of sleep-walking through her classes. It wasn’t that they weren’t paying attention, it’s just that things seemed less important, in the scheme of things. It kept resonating with them that they had touched the chalice of God! What do you say to someone when you’ve experienced that? How do you explain what it feels like to be judged by God and found pure? Hermione didn’t know. She didn’t know if she could even explain it to her parents. It would seem such like such a fanciful tale, and yet it was completely true.

Monday night, after they had returned from meeting with the Green Lady, sleep had come hard. She had cried in Harley’s arms and held her, not really able to express what it meant to her to know that her relationship with Harley was blessed. The next day, they had blow off class, simply because it was impossible to speak, much less concentrate on anything, while the events of Monday night played over and over again in their minds. Sirius had sent Poppy to see them, which made sense, in ways that not even Sirius really understood, even if they girls had been able to tell him why they weren’t in class.

Poppy had entered their bedroom and looked at the two of them, still curled up on Hermione’s bed, dressed in no more than a t-shirt and panties. Their eyes were still red with tears and it was obvious that the girls were doing their best to process what had happened.

“If you need to talk, come and find me, or send Dobby to me. I don’t have any patients right now, so I can come see you or you can come see me. I don’t know what you two experienced, but whatever it was, you’re changed because of it. If you need me to write to your parents, Hermione, just tell me and I’ll draft a letter. You’ll have to have Dobby or Hedwig take it, because I know that I don’t know their address.”

Hermione simply nodded, and then cuddled up with Harley, who was looking at her with a look that was more fiercely protective than any look that Poppy had ever seen before. It was as if something major had changed in her too.

“Harley, your God-father probably needs to know, as does Isabelle. Fortunately” and Poppy laughed as she said it, “Isabelle hasn’t left his quarters and seems perfectly content to hang around.”  
Harley looked at her and for a moment, cracked a smile. She was very happy that her mother and her god-father were becoming so entangled. She hoped that Sirius would make an honest woman of her and give her a ring soon.

As she turned to leave, she looked at them and then walked back, to stand beside Hermione’s bed. “I want you to know that I have never been prouder of any two students in my whole life. No one, save our small circle, will never know what you two have done, but that doesn’t matter. You’ve shown judgement that would defy most all adults and true depth of character.”

Poppy turned and left quietly, leaving the girls to think about what she had said.

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**North shore of Lake Monetjørna, Norway – Thursday, October 8th, 1992**

Minerva McGonagall looked out over Lake Montejørna. The colors of Fall were splashed all over the hillsides, in spectacular reds, oranges, yellows… as if someone had gone berserk with a massive, random brush. The winds were up, even if the sun was shining low in the sky. She thought about what she had experienced, for good or for ill in the last month. She thought about her guilt, towards her students and towards British magical society, and wondered why two young girls had sought to forgive her and give her shelter.

The house was quiet, which was intended. There was a muggle TV and radio, though neither worked very well for her because of her magic. There was wizarding wireless, for all the good it did her (most all of the programs were in Norwegian) and there were thousands of books, but it was, in fact, a prison of sorts. Isabelle was at Hogwarts, as were the girls, so there was no one to talk to and that made it just that much quieter. There was no Floo access to the house, cutting that off as a way of coming or going. Additionally, the house as well as the extensive grounds, were warded against apparition and port-keys, both in and out. That meant that she’d have to walk a very long way away from the house in order to go anywhere and frankly, she wasn’t up to it. Even in her Animagus form, she didn’t have the energy anymore to make that kind of effort. She knew she was getting old. She had been born in 1815 and the years were catching up with her. She wondered how much time she really had left. She had just celebrated her 125th birthday, making her about thirty years younger than Albus.

The one good thing was that she was receiving two different papers each day. One was the old stand-by, the Daily Prophet, and the other was the Times of London, which was being delivered, same day, like clockwork. How they managed that she didn’t know, but she appreciated it.

One thing that completely unnerved her was her walk in the meadow on the northern edge of the lake. There she saw thirty or thirty-five, thirty-meter long meteors lined up in very precise rows. Every single one of them had a melted end and a fairly intact end, as if they had fallen into the atmosphere and then somehow stopped. Some of the meteors were three to six meters high.

Out of an abundance of stupid, she had tried to lift one of the smallest ones, using her magic. She couldn’t even get it to budge and she almost exhausted herself magically. How the girls, by themselves, had not only caught the meteors falling into the atmosphere, but had used magic to precisely move them into position afterwards boggled her mind. The magical power required had to be so high as to be almost unknowable.

How the fuck does God come along and suddenly put not one, but two young girls among us who are god-like in their powers? What possible reason could there be for two of them?

Minerva thought about these things as she made her way back, lethargically, to the house where, in all likelihood, she would live out the rest of her days. She did not know, because it was intended that she did not know, that she was being watched. The Magical Secret Service of Norway, _Magisk hemmelig tjeneste i Norge_ , had had an eye on her from pretty much the moment she arrived, since anyone connected with the two girls was, by definition, worth watching.

Her identity was known, of course, because her magical signature was on file in a number of countries, after her service in WWII and thereafter. What was curious to the Norwegians was why she had been brought here, as opposed to one of the other properties owned by the Potters and the Rosses. It was a question that would remain unanswered, since no one wanted to bother the girls in order to get an answer. Poking sleeping dragons was just never a good idea.

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**Friday, October 9th, 1992 – Hogwarts**

Isabelle laid back in the king bed and felt both wonderfully kinky and accomplished. She had bagged the Headmaster! Again, and again, and again, and again… like she was some kind of magical pervert or nymphomaniac. But it felt awesome! It didn’t hurt that Sirius was so easy on the eyes and so very, very good in bed. It was as if the past ten years hadn’t happened. It also didn’t hurt that her magic liked his more than she could describe. She could feel hers weaving around his, learning and loving every bit of him. Is this how Harley feels about Hermione? She wondered.

Her only frustration was that Sirius was a dedicated and hard-working Headmaster. He had risen with the dawn, kissed her ferociously, and then disapparated and now her bed was lonely and cold. That wouldn’t have been so bad, except that she didn’t know where he had gone and she had very few of her clothes available, so getting up and just wandering out to find him was a challenge. Panties and a camisole were fine for home, but not so good for the halls of Hogwarts!

It took her a few minutes to remember that Hermione and Harley had an elf-friend and he might be willing to help her. Crossing her fingers, she called out, “Dobby?”

A moment later, an elf, dressed in the colors of the House of Ross, and of significant stature (for an elf) appeared and looked at her. “Mistress Harley’s mother called Dobby?”

Isabelle smiled widely at him. Dobby was dressed in real boots, with dark green pants that looked like Jodhpurs, and a brown jerkin that was made of fine leather. “Yes, Dobby. I need clothes from my house. I can’t pop around like my daughter can, but I was wondering if you or someone else could go and get them for me.”

“Dobby’s Winky can get them. Winky is feeling sad, because there’s not enough work to be keeping busy with.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure that if you ask my daughter, she’d be happy to go break something, so there’s more work to do.”

“Harley’s Mother is sure? Dobby is not wanting to get hopes up for all of Dobby’s friends!”  
“I’m sure.” Isabelle said, laughing.

It seemed like a mean thing to do, but Harley would find a way to create work for any elf who was bored. Even if she had to ask them to do something hard or time-consuming. In the meantime, she wanted to see the Castle and see what her daughter was up to. It took all of three minutes for Dobby to return, with a box of her clothes. All of her clothes, apparently, when she unshrank the box. Elf-magic truly was amazing. He had not only traveled across the ocean to her new home in Canada, but had packed everything and then returned, all in five minutes. She wondered, and not for the first time, if Elf-magic wasn’t more powerful than anything that she could do. Isabelle certainly was good at killing… to her great sadness. No one should be able to kill with the casual efficiency that she had developed.

Once she had showered and dressed, Isabelle made her way, carefully, down the long steps to Sirius’ outer office and then down the winding steps to the first floor of the Castle. From there, she made her way down to the Great Hall, where breakfast was just in progress. “MOM!!” Harley cried out, the moment that she saw her, from where she sat at the Gryffindor table.

The next moment, Isabelle was surrounded by Harley’s arms, hugging her with exuberant love. “I love you! I can’t believe that you’re here!”

Hermione was just as enthusiastic in her hug, which Isabelle returned just as affectionately. “Hey sweetie. You two miss me?”

Hermione smiled at Harley’s mom. They were almost eye to eye, not quite. “Wish my folks could come and visit.”

Isabelle nodded. It was the constant refrain of the children of non-magical parents… but both Miranda and Jake were squibs, weren’t they? She thought to herself. “It might be possible, sweetie. Your parents are squibs. They should be able to see the Castle and come visit you.”

Hermione’s smile grew even wider, if that was possible, at hearing that her parents could come and see the place where she lived for nine months of the year. To be able to show them some of the magic that she was learning would be a just incredible, and revelatory for her parents, since they got to hear about her adventures, but not see any of it.

The students up and down the length of the Gryffindor table watched and listened as Isabelle conversed with her daughter and daughter-in-law. Students all over the Hall, in fact, watched and listened as best they could. Isabelle was a known quantity, since she had testified for her daughter, not once, but twice in front of the Wizengamot. They wanted to know what Isabelle was doing at Hogwarts and what it might mean for them. The school still didn’t have a DADA teacher, though one had been promised to them.  
One student who wasn’t afraid of Isabelle’s presence, or even particularly bothered by it, wandered over – which prompted an unusual scene, to be sure. Draco Malfoy, with his amazing blonde hair, elegant robes, moved with an easy, athletic grace joined them… or rather, he got close enough that he was engulfed in tween-girl arms. “Hey you”, Harley whispered in Draco’s ear.

Blushing, which was something that Draco didn’t do very often, the young man turned to face Isabelle. Taking her hand, which she had extended, he kissed her knuckles, in a sign of respect. “Lady Ross, welcome.”

“Scion Malfoy. It is good to see you. I can see that my daughter has taken you into her circle?”

Draco nodded. “She, Hermione, and I have an understanding, Lady Ross. I’m lucky that they put up with me.”

“I can see that your parents’ easy elegance has bred true, Scion Malfoy. If only you could teach that to my daughter and daughter-in-law, I would be grateful.” Isabelle said with a laugh.

“Mom!” Harley said, in a way that every single parent, everywhere, has heard from his/her tween-age daughter.

Draco laughed aloud, which prompted Hermione to poke him in the ribs with a finger. “Oh! Abuse! Save me, Lady Ross!”

Hermione blushed furiously and turned to her wife. “He had it coming.”

“Ok, stop it you two. Scion Malfoy doesn’t deserve to have you two gang up on him. Now, Scion Malfoy, tell me something. I have heard that my two charges have been invited to your home for Samhain. Do I need to dress them for the occasion?”

Draco turned to face her and said plainly, “My parents have offered the same, but Harley here says she has it covered. I’m not convinced, but she’s a witch and I’m not going to cross her!”

“Probably a wise choice, Scion Malfoy.” She said, smiling. “Do you two have a proper gift for Lady and Lord Malfoy?”

Harley nodded. Oh yes they did…

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Isabelle did not expect to see her daughter teaching, but when she wandered into the DADA class that morning, on a lark, she saw Harley and Hermione directing the students, who all appeared attentive and studious, as they practiced the Flame whip charm. It was a lethal-looking tool that, when used correctly, would take limbs off your opponent or leave ugly gashes behind if the tip touched you. It wasn’t what she expected to see second and third-year students working to perfect.

However, as she watched the class progress, she noticed that there was a much greater degree of control and care being exercised than she had first seen. Only one student at a time was being allowed to try the charm, with either Harley or Hermione at the student’s side, while the other was shielding the class against stray effects from the charm. She also noticed that they were using the Invictus shield, which Isabelle herself had taught them, to protect the class.

What surprised her, and brought a glow to her face, was the fact that as the girls were teaching, her own words were coming out of their mouths! So they did listen to me! A part of her wanted to jump up and down with joy at hearing her daughter and daughter-in-law encourage and teach the class in many of the same ways that she had taught them during the summer, including many of the same phrases and words of encouragement.

Soon, the class was over and the students disbursed for their next classes. That included Harley and Hermione, who were due in Transfiguration next. Isabelle made herself invisible, or at least as invisible as her training allowed her to be, and drifted along after them.

About half-way down the hall, Isabelle received a rude surprise when Harley turned around, reached out, and touched her on the shoulder. “Hey, Mom.”

At that point, jig was up so Isabelle made herself visible again. She looked at them with an apologetic eye. “How did you know?”

Harley rolled her eyes. “Mom, I’d know your magical signature at a thousand miles. You think you can be anywhere in the building and Hermione or I don’t know about it?”

She nodded, conceding the point. “I’m sorry. Stupid on my part.”

“Where are you two going?” She asked, wondering if they’d tell her the truth.

“Transfiguration. Supposedly, we’re getting a new teacher, but we’ll see about that. The new DADA professor hasn’t arrived yet either and so…”

Isabelle struggled to keep a straight face. She knew who the new teacher was going to be, at least for the interim, and she wanted it to be a surprise.

Something in her expression though must have given away that she knew something because her daughter was immediately all over her like flies.

“Mom! You know who it is, don’t you? GIVE.”

At that point, Isabelle said, “It’ll be more fun to just show you…”

Hermione looked at her wife and the two exchanged an expression and a thought that was faster than Isabelle could follow it. It was almost preternaturally fast and she wondered if Magi were capable of some limited form of telepathy that came with the kind of power that they wielded.

Summoning their bags, Hermione held out her hand, as if to invite Isabelle to lead the way to their transfiguration class.

“Oh no you don’t. I don’t know where your classroom is. You have to lead the way!” Isabelle said, smiling at her daughter.

“Well, if that’s the case… “ Harley said, and she reached out to take Hermione’s hand and then her mother’s, before the three of them disappeared silently.

  
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Isabelle, Harley, and Hermione appeared again just outside the Transfiguration classroom on the third floor, near where Minerva McGonagall used to have her office. There was a cue of students milling around, waiting for the door to open, so that they could enter and find their favorite seats. Like their Muggle counterparts, the boys often had often, in the days before Harley and Hermione, congregated in the back of the room, so that they could swap notes and participate in the class as little as possible. Everything was different now. Now everyone wanted to see what was next. What impossible thing were the two famous girls going to show everyone?

Hermione was carrying their shared bag, because she had gotten to it first, leaving Harley with free hands. When the door opened, she saw who was going to be teaching the class and ran in, bounding into her god-father’s arms.

“Dad… Padfoot!” She said and then realized what she had called him. He looked at her and she could see the tears in the corners of his eyes. She wondered just how the word ‘Dad’ had come out of her mouth and if it felt right for her. He swept her up in her arms for a moment and gave her a hug. “Hey sweetie.”

Hermione and her mother could see the happiness in Sirius’ eyes and realized that he was feeling exactly what they hoped that he would feel: acceptance.

The rest of the students filtered in, some watching what was going on between Harley and the new Headmaster and some not. Of those who were watching, most seemed to be unconcerned about it and only two seemed put out. Hermione made a note of those two and reminded herself to speak with Dobby about them after class.  
“Good morning, class” Sirius said as he stood and took in the diversity of the class. Many of the students, he noticed, had adopted the spiral-ring notebooks favored by the first-generation students and the Bic™ pens in black or blue that made writing so much easier. He had never used them before, but he knew that had to be Muggle items, because he had seen Isabelle as well as Jake and Miranda use them.

“I have been told that most all of you are chomping at the bit to get on with things and that my god-daughter and her wife have corrupted you.” This was met with a fair bit of laughter and the nodding of heads.

“I am also reliably assured that you’ve learned how to do a number of things that violate several of the supposed ‘laws’ of transfiguration. I look forward to seeing just how well you’ve learned those lessons and what else you’ve done with that learning. I’m also told that this class, in particular, was responsible for that marvelous miniature train display that is in the front foyer. I’d love to see what else we can add to that display, since it deserves to be shown to everyone. I’d like to propose that we work on that together and then, at the end of the year, move it the Great Hall at the Ministry of Magic.” At this, the whole class applauded and it took a long moment to quiet the students.

Smiling, Sirius looked around. “Since I’m the Headmaster, this is the only class that I am going to have time to teach, which is unfortunate, since teaching is fun. I’m bringing in, just as soon as I can get her here, a teacher from the Ilvermorny School of Magic, in the colonies. She comes well recommended and I hope that she’ll be able to pick up from where I have to leave off with the other classes. I will continue to teach this class through the end of the year, so that you have continuity and so that I can be assured that all of you are ready for the OWL’s next December.”

“Now, Let’s figure out just how much each of you knows. I’m going to move your desks back and one at a time, you’re going to come up to my desk and I’m going to ask you to do a series of transfigurations. I will be taking note of how you do the transfiguration – that is, how fast, how cleanly, whether you have to use your wand or not, and whether you’re doing it silently. I expect great things from all of you!”

With a sweep of his arm, the room re-arranged itself so that all of the desks moved to the back of the room and there was adequate space at the front for each student to do what was being asked of him or her.  
“Dunbar, Fay!”

Fay was a bit tremulous as she moved to the front and center. Sirius tossed her a gold Galleon. “Transfigure this, please, into a dragon, a turret, and then a balloon.” Fay grinned. She knew she had at least the first two down pat. She did them wandlessly and silently. She faltered a bit on the balloon, but eventually got it to inflate properly and drift around the room, before returning to the galleon from which it had come. There was a burst of applause for her efforts.

“Well done! That was wonderful! Now.. Patil, Parvati!”

Parvati went to the tests with a vengeance and got all the way to creating the balloon before she lost control and the balloon sagged. It took her two additional tries to get it to float around the room and Hermione could see that she was forcing her magic the whole time. Hermione made a note to pull her aside and work with her on it, since there was just no reason to have to force the transfiguration.

“Malfoy, Draco!”

Draco smiled at Harley and Hermione and went through the three tests wandlessly and silently, as if born to doing it. The room applauded like mad and it made him blush, which is something that Hermione had not seen very often. She gave him a hug when he finished and wandered back to his place next to them.

Sirius was well…. seriously impressed Draco as finished. He hadn’t seen a student do magic with such panache since he had dueled Harley over the summer. “That was extraordinarily well done, Draco” Sirius said. “Five points for your efforts.”

The points made Draco blush even that much harder and Harley had to take his hand in hers and give it a squeeze, to reassure him.

Sirius made his way all the way through the roster before calling Hermione up. “Ross, Hermione”

Hermione put her wand away, silently summoned the Galleon from across the room, and went at the tests with style. Adding one of her own coins, Hermione transfigured a second, flying dragon and the two dragons breathed fire at each other as they flew around the room in an aerial battle. Then she transfigured the two dragons into turrets, from which flew fire-balls. When those had run their course, she transfigured the two turrets into long blimps that sailed around the room. Each blimp was done in a different house’s colors.

Her performance earned her kisses and hugs as she ran to the side of the room, but left the rest of the students speechless. When it was Harley’s turn, she sauntered to the center of the room and made a display of putting her wand way. Then she rolled up her sleeves. Showing everyone her bare hands, Harley grinned. Then she conjured four gold Galleons. Everyone gasped. It was a standing rule of transfiguration that you can’t conjure precious metals! Harley either didn’t know the rule or just didn’t care. She went on to transfigure one of the coins into a Phoenix and the other three into dragons. The phoenix started singing, which filled the room with joy. The miniature dragons flew in perfect formation behind the Phoenix; at one point doing an inverted loop-the-loop (Immelmann) and then a lateral barrel roll, which was the hardest of all movements.

When Harley finished that, she conjured a floating wooded table and made her flying creatures land on it, as if landing on an aircraft carrier. Hermione got was she was doing and started laughing. Once all four were landed, Harley turned two of them into connected turrets, one of them into a burning, fire-breathing Balrog, and then a miniature Gandalf, who stood in front of the two turrets, held up his golden staff and created a speech bubble which said, “You shall not pass!”

After that was done, she disappeared the turrets, the Balrog, and Gandalf, and turned all four into hot-air balloons, complete with upward fiery jets that created the hot air that made them float.

After a minute, Harley waved her hand and everything – the table, the hot air balloons, and the gold pieces, disappeared. There was applause of course, but everyone was so stunned that it wasn’t at the same volume as for Hermione. That didn’t matter to Harley of course, since the only person whose approval mattered to her was kissing her fiercely.  
Sirius was stunned. Even Isabelle, who had a mastery in transfiguration, had to take in what she had just seen and process the fact that Harley was already beyond her in terms of skill and power. And what the fuck was all that, conjuring gold out of thin air? That’s not supposed to be possible.

Pulling the two girls aside, Sirius said quietly, “That will be an O plus, with high honors for you, Hermione, and for you, daughter-ness, that’s an O plus, with highest honors. If the OWL teachers see you conjure Galleons, they will have a collective coronary.”

Harley grinned. “Love you, Da.” She didn’t tell him, because he didn’t need to know, that she was going to make a concerted effort to show everyone in the class how to do what she did, including the gold conjuring. He didn’t need to know and it would be a smashing surprise.

When the class let out, there was a sort of muted awe that moved with Harley and Hermione, wherever they went. Students meandered about, talking and thinking, before they popped away to their next class. Sirius watched some of them go, in the same black twinkle that accompanied Harley’s movements. It made him sick to his stomach that so many of the students had already perfected his god-daughter’s mode of travel and could move about, unseen and untraceable. He was certain that this group of students was going to be the most dangerous group of magic users to pass through Hogwarts in a thousand years. They were more powerful, more confident, and more cohesive than any class that had ever been seen at Hogwarts and the professors were struggling to stay ahead of what the students were learning to do, thanks to his god-daughter and her wife.

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**Monday, October 12, 2019 – Office of the Prime Minister, John Major – Just after 7 am.**

Being an MP and a Foreign Secretary for the UK had not prepared John Major for what he was facing now. In an hour’s time, he was flying to one of the most secure military facilities in all of the UK - RAF Lakenheath - to meet the two most powerful magical people, perhaps in all the world. An invitation to meet had been issued to them circuitously, via an agent in the magical village of Hogsmeade, just south of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That agent had then, in turn, co-opted the help of a bar-keep who was known to have ties with the two girls. The message had been then passed, via house-elf, to the two. The acceptance of the invitation had come somewhat more quickly, also via house-elf, which had scared the PM almost out of his pants.

The principal body-guard group for the PM, the Royalty and Specialist Protection Corp., was have conniptions over the meeting, since they could not guarantee the PM’s safety. They had been apprised of the “meteor incident” and worried that there wasn’t anything that they could do to keep a confrontation under their control. They didn’t understand that there really wasn’t any such thing as control when Muggles met with magicals. It just wasn’t a level playing surface.

Finally, it was decided that the meeting would be held out in the open, where snipers would have the girls in their lines-of-sight at all times. They had no idea that they were outclassed and outmatched. It would be a lesson that they would learn to their great frustration.

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Four hours later, PM John Major descended the stairs of an Aérospatiale SA 330 Puma medium-heavy transport helicopter, to be greeted by the base commander, a non-descript American Air Force general. The situation was explained to the American general and he, in turn, commanded his forces to give deference to the PM’s forces for the time that they were there.

At the appointed time, when all of his forces were in place, the PM withdrew from a special black box a small smoky quartz crystal. He held it in his hand and said, “I am here.”

A moment later, he could feel his skin crawl and the air started to crackle quietly with static electricity. Three people suddenly and silently appeared in black light. Each was carrying a wand and/or staff. Two were dressed in black robes and the other, in leather clothes that reminded the PM of something he had once seen in the Errol Flynn movie, Robin Hood.

Hermione nodded to Dobby, who surveyed the situation and then winked away. Harley looked around, saw all of the extremely heavily armed men, and waved a hand. There were immediate shouts as their weapons turned into small metal blocks that fell to the ground.

“I thought this was supposed to be a friendly meeting, Prime Minister” Harley said flatly.

John Major didn’t know what to say. He looked around and saw that all of the soldiers and protection corp. officers had been disarmed completely.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my call.” he finally got out.

Harley casually stunned everyone but Hermione and the PM. “I’m going to remove their memories of this meeting”.

The PM looked at her and nodded, reluctantly. “I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

Just at that moment, Dobby re-appeared and whispered something in Hermione’s ear. She nodded, hugged him, and sent him home before saying to the PM, “All of your snipers have been disarmed, rendered unconscious, and had their memories wiped.”

“Now, what is it that you want of us, Mr. Prime Minister?”

“I was told that I should meet you, since you’re the most powerful magic users in the world and you’re going to school practically next door.”

Harley looked at him, unimpressed. “So, you’ve met us. What do you want?”

“I’m told that you both can bring down meteors from outer space.”

“So?”

The PM looked at Harley, somewhat goggled at her apparent flippant attitude. “Surely you can understand that doing so might constitute a problem for me?”

“We sort of guessed that, owing to the fact that we’re not stupid.” Hermione said to him, her caustic side coming to the forefront.

John Major swallowed his pride and accepted the clap-back from her, since there was nothing he could do to her to get across the fact that he didn’t like being disrespected.

“Which one of you is Hermione?”

Hermione looked at him and said, “I am.”

The PM turned to Harley and said, “Then you must be Harley.”

Harley nodded. “I am.”

“How did you cry out for Hermione?”

Harley thought about that for a moment, before saying, “I gathered magic and then I thought about what I wanted to say, and then called out her name.”

“You know that pretty much everyone on the whole planet heard you, right?”

Harley looked at him, cocked an eye, and said, “Yes. What’s your point?”

Major looked at her, not knowing quite what to say, and wondering what his point was, since the question was asked at least somewhat rhetorically. Finally he said, “You understand, right, that no one has ever done that before. That no one has ever spoken to the entire planet, all at once? That your crying out for Hermione left people feeling a great many things, including sad, lost, bewildered, scared, and wondering just who the hell Hermione was. I know for myself, and there’s no embarrassment in this, that I sat down and cried. I had no idea who you were or why someone was crying out your name, but that the desperation in Harley’s cry expressed something very deep and I felt it, just like everyone in my office. I’ve been told, and at first I didn’t believe it, that you two are married?”

“We are. What’s your point?”

“My point? What do you mean?”

“Hermione and I are married, by law and by magic. Our relationship is outside the laws of muggle England, but completely within the laws of Magic.” She didn’t say, though her tone of voice clearly meant it, that it was woe to anyone who interfered with them.

“What do you mean, married by magic?”

Harley looked at Hermione and said, “I hate stupid people.” She said it just loudly enough for the PM to hear it.

“How dare you!” John Major knew saying it was a mistake the moment that his mind engaged with his brain, but it was too late.

“How dare I? Let me show you how I dare.” Harley’s eyes started to glow green and with that, she turned away and looked up, towards the heavens. At the same moment, Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at the PM, very clearly indicating that to interfere was to die.

The sudden BOOM! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! in the sky made Major look up. He could see a fiery object, racing down at them, shattering windows for miles around with its sonic explosions. At the last moment, it changed course and came whistling down towards the base. A large bomber with UK markings on it, that was parked towards the very far end of the runway, at least a mile and a half away from everything else, exploded with a tremendous fireball as the meteor hit it and with a sound so deafening that the only people left unaffected were Harley and Hermione.  
When the PM could stand again, since the concussive force of the blast had knocked him over and set his ears ringing, he looked aghast at what was left (nothing) of the aging UK bomber that had been sitting on its pad, which was now a 20 ft. deep hole.

Even as the fire trucks and rescue equipment screamed down the long runway towards the fire, Harley looked at him and this time she got up close, “That’s how I dare. That meteor was less than a meter across. I can pull ones down that are thirty times that size. I can drop them anywhere I please. Now do you get it?”

John Major hadn’t recognized the fact that he had pissed himself. At least not until Hermione had waved her hand and cleaned him up magically.

It was dawning on him that in this situation, it was but for the grace of God, that he was a dead man. “Ok. I get it. You’re outside our laws. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have challenged you. Just…. Please, please don’t do that again.” He looked at her like a man on the edge of a breakdown, which he very nearly was.

Harley cooled down a bit; at least enough to say, “Ok. Fine. Just remember that you’ll find happiness from here on out in leaving us alone. We are not at your beck and call. Leave our families alone. Leave our friends alone. If you do that and you accept that Hermione and I are married and that that will not and cannot be changed, your time in office will be peaceful.” She didn’t have to give voice to the threat of what would happen if he chose to disregard her warnings.

Hermione waved her hand and all of the weapons that they had transfigured at the start of the meeting returned to their previous shapes and functions. She woke up all of the guards and protection personnel, leaving them all with no memories at all of the encounter.

“Good-bye, Mr. Prime Minister. Remember what we’ve said and what’s happened here. Unless there’s a national emergency and literally no one else can help, we don’t ever expect to see you again.” Saying that, the two of them took hands, faded to black, and disappeared.

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The two weeks that followed were two of the worst that John Major had ever suffered, personally or professionally. The personal parts consisted of nightmares of things blowing up, people screaming, and whole cities on fire. They robbed him of sleep and gave him anxieties that he had never before experienced.

Professionally, his premiership had fallen to shit. The loss of an Avro Vulcan XH558 was a complete tragedy, since it was one of only a few left, after the decommissioning of the plane from active service and the explosion at RAF Lakenheath, had so shaken the British-American partnership as to escalate the problem to the level of diplomatic disaster. Worse, the it was impossible to cover up the smashed windows and injured people that had accompanied the explosion. Windows had been blown out over a five-square mile radius and he was in the horrendously uncomfortable position of having to lie repeatedly, directly, and deliberately to the British people as to the cause of the explosion. It was God’s own grace intervening, Major thought, that no one had been killed or even seriously wounded.

Compounding matters, the two wizards in the employ of the British government, who had listened to the tape of the PM’s conversation with the two girls (taken with very long-distance microphones) and who had watched the video of the encounter, which had been taken at such long range as to be almost entirely useless, said that it was their opinion that the PM was lucky to be alive. Other agents, squibs mostly, who had been given privy access to the details of the encounter, under pain and penalty of the National Secrets Act, said that they were astonished that the PM had gone into the meeting so poorly informed about the two Magi, what it meant to be magical, what it meant to be a Magus, and what the girls’ powers and political standing meant for British magical society.

The consensus was that the British government didn’t know nearly enough about the goings on in the magical world that existed right under its nose and that that lack of knowledge was going to be a considerable problem. Either someone was going to get killed or there was going to boil up out of the magical world such that it affected the mundane world very adversely.

So it was that John Major found himself talking to his Chief of the Defense Staff, Field Marshal Sir Richard Vincent and his expected successor, Marshal of the Royal Air Force

Sir Peter Harding in his private residence. John’s wife, Norma, had discreetly stepped out for the evening, in order to give the men the privacy that they needed for their conversation.

Pouring a dram of Glenkinchie 12-Year-Old Whisky for his guests, the PM found himself a seat and looked at them. “Alright, so what is it that drags you all the way down to London, Sir Richard?”

“John, to put not too fine a point on it, you’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest. The Americans are up in arms and our European friends have asked, and I quote, “Just what the fuck are you guys doing?”

John rubbed the bridge of his nose, in a desperate attempt to ease the stress that he had been feeling, almost constantly, since his meeting with the two Magi. It wasn’t working. “You’ve listened to the tape?” he asked, almost rhetorically.

“Yes, of course. So’s Peter. The little chits are disrespectful and arrogant.”

“Well, be that as it may, you noticed that the protective detail was disarmed with the blink of an eye, and the snipers were all disabled almost as quickly?”

The Field Marshall grunted in disgust. “I saw. It was if they weren’t even there or their presence didn’t matter.”

“Either of the girls could have killed all of us with a word, I think. We’re insignificant to them. We don’t matter, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“What did you think you were doing, inviting them to one of our most secure bases? What if they had decided to make an example of the base and destroy it like they destroyed the Vulcan?”

The PM looked at the soon-to-be Defense Chief and said, with more than a little anger “Where should I have met them then? I picked the largest, least-used, and least significant base that we had that was still secure! I could have met them on the Outer Hebrides, I suppose, but that would have looked damn unusual and I expect they might not have showed, since it would have been obvious as to how little we trust them.”

The current chief looked at his boss and said, “The Americans are screaming and are threatening to pull all of their first-line fighters out of the Kingdom, along with all of their support-personnel. That would cost us a fortune in knock-on spending by their people each year. To the tune of a billion pounds or more.”

“The Chancellor of the Exchequer would just love to hear that” Major said, acidly.

“He’s not the only one, John. I can’t imagine that my successor would be terribly happy about it either.” Sir Peter said. “Our relationship with the Yanks is critical. Our best weapons-systems come to us from them or through them, because of their research programs. If they get stirred up and decide to cut us off, we’re screwed.” He leaned into that last word, making sure that the PM understood just how important the relationship with the US military-industrial research-base was to the United Kingdom’s military efforts.

“And don’t I know it.” Major retorted. “President Bush called me personally and read me the riot act, to the extent that his people would let him. He actually asked me if I had read the transcript of the meeting that the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement here in London had with the President of Magical Congress of the US and suggested that if I hadn’t, that my people are being sloppy and that I ‘shit-can’ them as he put it.”

“So what are you going to do, John? Our allies are up in arms because of that little chit’s display of power and yet your own people are telling you what? Run away?”

“No. What my people have officially said is that I’d be best served to leave them the fuck alone unless I really, really have a death-wish, and pretend that they don’t exist.”

“Are you going to listen to them?” The Chief of Staff asked.

Major looked at him and said, “Contrary to popular belief, I do not have a death-wish, nor do I want to cause any more havoc than has already happened. I really don’t have an option, other than to do as they say and leave them alone. I could order MI6 to try to find them – where they live during the summer, for instance, or who their friends are, and who their parents are, but there’s no order that I could give that wouldn’t eventually come home to roost. I am convinced that the girls meant it when they said, ‘leave us alone’ and that they have the power to enforce that edict. It’s entirely possible that they’re listening to this very conversation, with means that we can’t detect.”

“What does Sir Colin (McColl) have to say about that?” Sir Peter asked.

“What can he say? It’s not as if he wants the girls hunting his people either. If they tried a snatch and grab, his people would probably be lucky to survive the experience. That’s if they were successful. If they weren’t and the girls caught wind of an attempt, we’d probably be facing a war we could not win. Imagine a 50 meter long meteor slamming into the Ark Royal or the Illustrious. There’s just no defense against that. Imagine one crashing into downtown London. We couldn’t save her Majesty even if we wanted to, because we’d have almost no warning.”

“Surely, the girls aren’t that blood-thirsty?”

“I don’t think that they are, either, but that’s not what I was getting at. If one of them decided to declare war on us, it would me she no longer cared – she was someone who had nothing left to live for.. You heard them. They are married. They said it themselves. Think about what you’d do if someone killed your Jean and you had the power to punish the people you thought responsible.”

The Field Marshall winced at that and conceded, in his heart, that Sir John was probably right in his estimation. “Can’t argue that one, Sir John” he said quietly. He thought it was right odd for two girls to say that they married. In his mind, marriage for a man and a woman.

Sir Peter listened to the interchange and nodded his agreement. “Best then to leave them alone then. Strictly speaking, they’re not national assets and even if they were, they’re both way under age. Given current sensitivities, the Crown courts would never let us Shang Hai them into doing our dirty-work, no matter how worthy the cause.”  
Field Marshall Vincent took a long pull on his whiskey and then said quietly, “No man likes to be told what to do by youngsters, but you’ve got the right of it, Peter. Best leave them alone and pray to God that we never have to deal with them across the plains of War.”

Sir John Major, the Prime Minister of Great Britain, said a silent ‘amen’ to that. He had seen quite enough magic, thank you very much, and hoped that he would never have to face it again. He also knew that if wishes were horses, no one would walk.

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**Azkaban Prison, east of the Suouroyar fjord, south of the Farrow Islands, Nov. 1st, 1992**

Since the Dementors had been removed (killed) by the Goblins and the security had been upgraded by the new Kommandant as the British magicals thought of him, Azkaban prison wasn’t the hell-hole it had been. That wasn’t to say that it was nice. It wasn’t. The rats still ran free, as did the flees. It was cold, dark, wet, and miserable. Even if the food had been upgraded significantly, the experience hadn’t been. In some ways, it was worse. Better food meant a longer life, which was exactly what most prisoners feared. A healthy magical person could expect to live, on average, over 120 years, and so a life-sentence at age 40 meant sixty-plus years in prison or more.

Albus Dumbledore wasn’t in this category. He had been born in 1829 and was already 163 years old, but could have expected maybe as much as another twenty or thirty years, given his magical powers. Unfortunately, those powers had been taken from him by ankle-bracelets that made him no better than a squib, and it was driving him into insanity.

Most days, he simply talked to himself. His phoenix companion had abandoned him and there was no one else who wanted to talk to him. Those who shared the cells proximal to his were lifer’s as well: Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband Rodolphus Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Rabastan Lestrange (Rodolphus Lestrange’s brother), Axelrod Mulciber, Walden McNair, and others. They were all more or less crazy. The prolonged exposure to the Dementors had driven them past the twist and there was no recovery to be had for any of them.

The Goblin guards thought the situation was great. The ones recruited to work on the prison-island hated humans… except when they were roasted and served on a plate, and so had made bets on which of the prisoners would die first. Of course, the prisoners would not be allowed, at the end, to die by Mother nature’s hand. Rather, they would be ‘helped’ along with the aid of a butcher’s knife to the throat.

If the new Kommandant knew of this situation, he didn’t say anything. It was the price, he might suppose, of having gotten rid of the Dementors and instituted a much more secure guard system: one where prisoners couldn’t just walk out of the prison, like Sirius Black had done. Also, no one could enter or leave the prison while invisible, or under the influence of Polyjuice and no one could enter the prison with Polyjuice in his/her possession. Also, no one could step on prison-grounds with the Dark Mark. Those who had the mark were kept on the island, but under wards that had each of their magical signatures, such that they were trapped.

Unlike the other prisoners though, a magical transcript was being kept of everything that Albus Dumbledore said, since he was known to have secrets about his secrets, and more than 160 years of information, some of which was thought to be priceless. Between the simple mutterings and disconnected ramblings, bits and pieces of stories were being uncovered that were setting parts of the Ministry for Magic aflame.

One of those had to do with Albus’ suspected lover, Gellert Grindelwald. It had never been known where Albus had gotten the Wand of Destiny until now. The Wand in question had been confiscated at the time of Dumbledore’s arrest and was thought to be residing in the Department of Mysteries. To his execrable consternation, the Minister for Magic would soon be told that a number of items, including the Wand of Destiny, several time-turners, a prophecy sphere, and a number of maps were missing and presumed to have been ‘borrowed’.

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**Gryffindor Girl’s 3rd Year dormitory, Tuesday, November 3, 1992 – after curfew**

The confiscated bounty – i.e – that which was ‘borrowed’ from the Department of Mysteries, found its way to Hermione’s bed, and into the hands of two very curious girls, which was exactly where Saul Croaker thought that it would be.

_**Flashback - Saturday, October 24th – 9pm; Saul Croaker’s office, DoM, London, UK**_

“We’ve been robbed, Amelia. Yes, that’s what I’m saying. Someone broke into the department tonight and took the Wand, a couple of time-turners, including the experimental one, a half-dozen maps, including the forbidden ones, most all of the confiscated potions, a muggle weapon that we found last year, and the Prophecy. Yes, that was taken. No, I don’t know what it was, but my people were scared of even touching it, so it had to have been important.”

Her answer came back, short and sharp and Saul had to wince at the vitriol in her voice. He had never been insulted in that particular way before and let the person doing the insulting live, but he had no choice with her. She was nominally his boss and while he could contest her decisions if he felt that they ran counter to the oath that he swore, he couldn’t challenge her for simply swearing at him. It was galling.

For her part, Amelia Bones knew exactly who had broken into the DoM and stolen the things. They were the only two who had the power to do so and not be seen or detected, coming in or going out. Their ability to Apparate without detection gave them an unparalleled advantage; one that she would spend the rest of her life trying to counter, without success.

However, that didn’t give her the ability to simply march up to Hogwarts and arrest them. No evidence meant no warrant, and as they had already demonstrated, anything less than a warrant, voted and signed by two-thirds of the Wizengamot would be grounds to kill her and she didn’t doubt that they would, if only because she annoyed them. It was an infuriating situation.

Of course, it wasn’t as infuriating (or terrifying) a situation as what faced the PM, when the a 178 kiloton warhead, a W76-1, one of three that had come off an accidentally ejected SLBM on Sept. 27th, 1991 in the White Sea, showed up in the middle of his office, no worse for wear, with a bow around it… and a note saying, “You people lost this apparently and we thought you’d want it back. Please stop losing stuff. This isn’t our job. Hermione & Harley”.

The warhead’s sudden appearance in his office had forced PM John Major to tell more than two dozen quite astonished people about the existence of magic, and then swear them all to permanent silence, under the Official Secrets Act. It had also forced him to send a note, again through the circuitous route, to the two girls, inquiring about where it had been found and how they had come to have it. He really didn’t like the answer, not one little bit.

Flash forward… 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Hermione loved puzzles and maps, especially treasure maps, were a kind of puzzle. It sucked that three of the maps, therefore, were busts after a fashion. Not that they hadn’t led somewhere. Well… they had, after a fashion, but gold Doubloons were not that important to them in the scheme of things. Hermione had stopped counting the Galleon-sized Doubloons after twenty-five thousand. She had shuttled all of them off to their joint account at Gringotts, with the anticipation that the account would be used for buying gifts, etc. She had also set aside a bag of five thousand of the gold coins for her parents, just because they were pretty and it was kind of fun to give them a piece of what they had found.

The other two maps, including one from the box that they had found in the DoM marked ‘Forbidden’, had led somewhere interesting indeed, but that didn’t matter either. What really mattered was the god-damned prophecy that they had found in the Hall of Prophecies.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

“Da!” Harley said as she appeared in the Headmaster’s office. Sirius turned around, caught sitting in a chair on the balcony that looked out from the school, over the great loch. The stars filled the sky, and the moon loomed large as the clouds in the distance were flashed by, pushed by the coming winter winds. It was warm where he sat though, because of the magics that protected the office.  
“Harley? What are you doing here?”

“I found something.”

“Do I dare ask?” he said, standing up and putting aside the book he had been reading.

He looked good. His hair was soft now, and swept back, and his beard and mustache were trimmed, making him look young, but distinguished. His robes were brown, mostly, and elegant; not gaudy like Dumbledore had favored. He moved gracefully – as if the time in Azkaban hadn’t hurt him at all. It was remarkable, Harley thought, and she wondered just how much intervention Poppy had had to do in order to get him to this point.

Since it was past curfew, no one else was around. “Where’s my mom?”

“She’s in bed, probably waiting for me. I was trying to get in some last minute reading before class tomorrow.”

Harley grinned. It was an accepted fact that Isabelle and Sirius were together and that she had all but moved in with him.

“Da, you need to see something. I’ve already shown it to Hermione.”

She held up the milky, glowing, glass sphere and showed him the tag that went with it. He saw the initials and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t know either. I think the second one is Albus Dumbledore, but I don’t know who S.P.T is. The Dork Lard, obviously, and me.”

He looked at the label and had to agree that the only person who had that many initials was the former headmaster, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Walking around with it for a few minutes, while Harley looked on, Sirius thought about who S.P.T could be. Then he realized who it had to be: the only Seer known to have been in Dumbledore’s orbit, Sybil Trelawney. Rather, Sybil Patrice Trelawney.

**S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D**

Dark Lord

And (?) Harry Potter

“This was given by Sybil Trelawney, sweetie. She’s dead now, so no more prophecies from her, thank god. I don’t know what the question-mark is all about, but obviously you’re named, so it’s about you and the dork lard. Have you listened to it yet?”

Harley nodded and then Sirius asked, “May I?”

Harley reached out and touched it with the tip of her wand, causing a spectral image to appear and start speaking:  
_**The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."**_

_Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix – Chapter 37_

Sirius looked at her, with more love and more concern than he ever had before. “Any idea what it means?”

“Hermione’s worked out some of it. My scar is the mark that it talks about. Born as the Seventh month dies… she thinks that refers to my birthday at the end of July. As for my parents…”

Sirius jumped in on that one. “They had beaten the bastard three times in running fights and defied him. I’m almost positive that’s what that refers to.”

Harleys’ eyes were wide with surprise and interest. Sirius could see that she was more than a little interested in hearing those stories and he promised himself that he would teach her what he could about James and Lily and about the things they had done together.

“The rest of this is problematic, isn’t it?” Sirius asked, almost rhetorically. The answer couldn’t be anything but yes, but he wanted to see how far along Harley’s thinking was on the matter.  
“And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…” Harley quoted back to him. “Yea, it’s a problem. If he has the same level of power that I do, we’ve got an issue. But he first has to have a body. If it’s just a ghost of him wandering around, he’s not a threat. Yet. But if he finds a way to get himself a new body, then… we’ve got problems.” The wheels started grinding away in Harley’s mind and she made a personal note to go back to bed and talk to Hermione, before she forgot this line of thinking.

Sirius got the nasty feeling that his god-daughter was about to go off and do something either reckless or problematic, but he couldn’t cut her off and keep whatever it was from happening, since she could basically come and go as she pleased. The only person who could really discipline her was Isabelle, which made retiring to bed all the more important.

“Go to bed, Harley. We’ll talk about this in the morning, when we can be together, the four of us.”

Harley nodded, gave him a big hug, stepped back, and then disappeared.

"I’ve got to have them teach me how to do that."

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Almost two weeks passed and a sense of foreboding descended on the school. Something was amiss and no one could say what it was. Hermione and Harley both saw it. People were clumping up and moving in groups. Odd things were happening in the hallways and no one wanted to be caught out, alone. Students were not walking the hallways if they could avoid it, choosing instead to Apparate from one class to the next. It was unnerving for the teachers, who were left alone when they walked between classrooms It made the school too quiet. Even the forty-eight house-elves that were bonded to Harley or Hermione chose not to walk. If the Mistresses thought it was too dangers, then they thought it was too dangerous.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Sunday evening, November 15th – Foyer of the Great Hall**

There was a scream, as there often is, when something horrible is found, and it brought staff running. They weren’t alone though. The Head Boy and Girl appeared, as did Hagrid, the Grounds-keeper and defender of the school. His presence was reassuring, both because of his size and because there was no more ferocious a protector of students than Hagrid.  
Written on the gray, granite floor, in blood, was a warning:

**"THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE"**

Above the words, in mid-air, dangled the petrified body of Hermione’s familiar, Crookshanks. She had gotten him in Diagon Alley, during one of their shopping trips. By and large, he was a harmless, loving, gentle animal who seemed to love everyone in their dorm-room and was often found making eyes at people, in an attempt to beg treats.

Harley gathered Hermione in her arms and did her best to comfort her. Hermione’s tears were running hot down her cheeks and Harley could feel Hermione’s magic trembling with rage, eager to get out and destroy someone.

“Shhhhhh. It’s alright love. I can feel his magic still. He’s not dead, just petrified. I promise, I will find the person who did this and I will destroy him.”

Hermione clung to her wife fiercely and everyone gave them space, because magic was literally pouring off them, such that it was palpable for everyone standing in the Foyer.

Poppy pushed her way through the mob, until she was up close to the petrified animal. Taking out her wand, she did a complicated series of movements that brought eldritch magic to her command. Closing her eyes, she practiced magic that she hadn’t used in almost fifty years. Still clinging to Harley, Hermione watched closely as the powerful medi-witch worked and tried to discern what she was doing. It frustrated her that she didn’t know and that fed a burning desire to learn. She promised herself that she would do what she could to learn the magic that was being used.

When Poppy stopped, she turned to Hermione. She was tired from expending the kind of magic that she had had to, in order to get the answers she sought, but she had the look of someone who had succeeded, despite difficulties. “Petrified. Magically, and not from potions. Whatever did this, it used magic.”

That sent Hermione’s mind racing. There were only four creatures that could petrify a person. A Gorgon, a Beholder, a Bodak, or a Basilisk. She turned to Sirius, who was looking on. “Headmaster, could a Beholder, a Gorgon, or a Bodak get into Hogwarts?”

Sirius looked incredulous. He was sure that none of the three could get through the wards, but he turned to look at Hagrid. “Any idea?”

“No, Headmaster, sir. None of those beasties could get through the wards. A Beholder and a Gorgon are both Demons and a Bodak is an undead.”

His answer didn’t make Sirius feel any better. “Fuck. Ok, so we think that maybe we have a basilisk wandering around the school. That would take a Parselmouth, which means there’s someone else in the school who’s a Parselmouth we didn’t know about.”

“Any idea how Crooks only got petrified?” Sirius looked at Hermione.

She looked around. There was nothing immediately obvious in the foyer, but that didn’t mean anything. It had to be something she was missing. The gaze of a basilisk usually killed and Poppy had already confirmed that Crookshanks was just petrified. She looked around and then she looked down again at the message. Not the message, but the words. They were bright red. Fresh. Wet. That struck her as curious and wrong somehow.

Harley looked at her Godfather. “Da?” She turned to Sirius and pointed at the message. “It’s wet. Someone just wrote this. And the floor is wet.”

Sirius looked where Harley was pointing. She was right. It was wet. But it wasn’t raining outside. So where had the water come from? He didn’t know. Something was very not right.

Sirius looked around. He was scared for his students. He pointed his wand at his throat and whispered, sonorous. “Hogwarts. Hear me.” His voice carried all through the school. Every classroom, every nook, every crevasse and every dorm room resonated with Sirius’ voice. “From now on, until I tell you otherwise, you will use your ability to move from class to class. I don’t want anyone walking in the halls. Teachers – I will add you to wards, so that you can Apparate as well. That is all.”

He knew that until they dealt with the challenge, they would be under threat. He had to figure out where the monster was living and then kill it.

No one saw little Millie Bulstrode shrink into the shadows, overcome with fear and a sense of guilt that she very much didn’t understand. Something was making her pass out and forget doing things. She knew those things were wrong, but she was having a hard time fighting it off.

Sirius looked at Harley, Hermione, the Deputy Headmistress, and Poppy. “My office. Now.”

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	3. Dawn's New Light - Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a student is petrified, a mountain is destroyed, and a Headmaster learns a lesson in magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

****

**From chapter Two:**

Sirius looked around. He was scared for his students. He pointed his wand at his throat and whispered, sonorous. “Hogwarts. Hear me.” His voice carried all through the school. Every classroom, every nook, every crevasse and every dorm room resonated with Sirius’ voice. “From now on, until I tell you otherwise, you will use your ability to move from class to class. I don’t want anyone walking in the halls. Teachers – I will add you to wards, so that you can Apparate as well. That is all.”  
He knew that until they dealt with the challenge, they would be under threat. He had to figure out where the monster was living and then kill it.  
No one saw little Millie Bulstrode shrink into the shadows, overcome with fear and a sense of guilt that she very much didn’t understand. Something was making her pass out and forget doing things. She knew those things were wrong, but she was having a hard time fighting it off.  
Sirius looked at Harley, Hermione, the Deputy Headmistress, and Poppy. “My office. Now.”  


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**Monday morning, November 16th**

Ron Weasley had never been so scared, or felt so alone. He had failed to learn how to Apparate around, like his brothers and his sisters had done, so he was forced to bum ‘rides’ from people or walk between classes, despite what the Headmaster had said. The hallways were very quiet when there was no one walking up and down the stairs or racing up and down the halls. He could hear people in classrooms and felt frustrated that he didn’t know how to do everything that they were doing. Even his younger sister was doing magic that felt beyond him!  
He was supposed to be in Transfiguration, but he was late, because everyone had put off going to class until the last moment, because… well, they could. Ron didn’t have that ability and he knew he was going to be late to class, which would cause him to get yelled at and probably lose points. He hated that. He always got howlers from his mother when he lost points for Gryffindor. He hated that. It was embarrassing and it made him feel like a little boy.  
It was so quiet in the hallways that he could hear his own footsteps and it creeped him out. It was like his own footfalls were somehow mocking him by being so loud. It was as if they were reminding him of his own weaknesses by being so loud, because they wouldn’t be there at all if he were as strong magically as his brothers or his sister. The thoughts wouldn’t let him go and with every step, he grew closer to class, and a teacher who was going to chastise him for being late and for not doing as he had been instructed: Apparating between classes like all of his classmates. He hated it. He hated feeling weak and he resented not feeling part of the ‘in’ crowd – which meant being friends with Harley Ross and her wife, Hermione Dagworth-Ross nee Granger. He also resented the fact that his parents had had to publicly declare a life-debt to Hermione for having saved his life from an angry Hippogriff.  
As he reached the Second floor, he turned the corner and was heading towards the Transfiguration classroom when he saw Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington floating in the middle of the hallway. He was just about to turn into the short hallway that led to the classroom when Sir Nicholas turned and yelled at him, Run! Unfortunately, Ron was too late and his last thought was ‘oh no’ as the great, green eyes of the Basilisk caught him full on, through Sir Nicolas. The gaze of the Basilisk was enough to send Sir Nicholas onto the next great adventure, whether he wanted to go or not, and send Ron, petrified, to the hallway floor. He wouldn’t be discovered for almost 30 minutes.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The howler that Sirius Black, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, received from Molly Weasley was truly epic and it resonated in his office for more than an hour. It was only after he had personally floo’d her and let her know that mandrake had already been ordered and would be available in two weeks’ time that she calmed down. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that as soon as her youngest son was revived, he would be sent home, since he was unable to comply with the Headmasters’ directive that every student Apparate between classes. He was the only student who was too weak magically and too lazy to learn either of the apparition techniques that Lady Harley was teaching the students.  
Sirius didn’t look forward to that conversation, since it would put him on the outs with both Molly and Arthur. Arthur was not a strong-willed man, all things being equal, and he tended to cow-tow to his wife far to much and too often. It was something that Sirius had a hard time respecting. He understood that a certain amount of leeway had to be given to one’s partner, but Arthur’s amount of deference to Molly was, in Sirius’ opinion, beyond the pale.  
Isabelle was utterly unlike Molly. While Molly was controlling and overly-dotting, Isabelle was coolly hands-off, unless it was absolutely necessary to be otherwise. It made, in Sirius’ estimate, the relationship between Isabelle and Harley that much stronger, since it lessened Harley’s fear of being dictated to by her mother and actually drew Harley to her, for advice on all sorts of things – from magic to makeup and Shakespeare to sex. Sirius, on the other hand, got to revel in his role as God-father and giver-of-treats and advice. He also got to hug Harley a lot. It was funny, or at least the other students thought it was funny, how Harley would run up to her God-father and hug him whenever she saw him, before running off to class. That was, of course, before the god-damned basilisk. A lack of ‘running hugs’ from his god-daughter made him want to hunt the fucking monster down himself and kill it. To that end, Harley had taken him out, away from the castle, and taught him some of her most destructive spells. Two of them had made him piss himself when she demonstrated them.  
The last one she showed him was the meteor-grabbing spell. He had never seen her do it up close and wanted to see it in action. She told him to look at the small mountain that was about a mile and a half south of the Castle, along the eastern coast of the Loch. Reaching up with her magic, she found what she was looking for and pulled it out of orbit. It was a meteor, perhaps two meters in length, three meters across, and a meter in height. It was so small that Harley barely had to think about it as she guided it in. With the barest magical nudge, it was right on course to hit where she wanted it. She knew it was going to be spectacular when it hit. “Shield… now” she said, about ten seconds before the meteor hit. Sirius threw up an Invictus shield and watched the explosion. He saw it not quite eleven seconds before he felt the massive concussive wave hit him. The explosion had been titanic. There was nothing left of the mountain that the meteor had hit and the fireball was still climbing into the sky, as the super-heated gasses billowed and rose. It was an explosion that could be seen from thirty miles or more. Sirius shook his head in wonder. Harley, on the other hand, was bouncing up and down. She seemed almost gleeful. “I’d never gotten to crash one that size before. I’ve got to show this memory to Hermione!”  
“Didn’t you crash one for the PM?” Sirius asked, remembering that incident and wondering why the PM still had his job.  
“Yea, but that was a tiny one! This one was great. Of course, Hermione and I brought ones down that were tens of thousands of times the size of this one.”  
He just hadn’t really believed until had had gone to see them. It’s one thing to be told that your god-daughter hunts monsters, batholithic or otherwise, but it’s quite something else to actually see the bodies.  
“You going to catch hell from the PM for this?”  
Harley shrugged. “Probably not. There’s nothing out here and he can chalk it up to a stray meteor or to a weapons-test that went wrong, or a crashed plane or anything else. He’ll know it’s me or Hermione, but we haven’t actually broken any laws.” She didn’t bother to say, tongue-in-cheek, that yes, she had broken a couple of physical laws, but she couldn’t be punished for that.  
She looked at him. “Your turn. Find something small. You want to catch it on the way down and park it somewhere.” She pointed to a beach not far away. “Set it down over there.”  
Sirius nodded. “Feel it with your magic, Da. Reach out, like you’re extending your hand. Grab it and pull it towards you.”  
Harley watched at Sirius called up his magic. She could see it in his eyes. They were a magical gray now; vibrant and glowing. She used her own magic to follow what he was doing, just in case he needed help.  
She could hear the meteor he had grabbed before she could see it. It was small, just like she had suggested, but it was moving fast and he was going to have to get ahold of it sooner than later, so that it didn’t crash into something that really wouldn’t benefit from a stray meteor.  
The traditional Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom from the meteor breaking the sound barrier in the lower atmosphere echoed across the broad Scottish valley. Harley’s eyes hadn’t left the meteor since the moment she first saw it. She could feel Sirius’ magic now, surging, struggling to get a firm grip on the meteor. It was moving fast and he was having a hard time compensating. Harley reached out, magically, and slowed the meteor down enough that he could ‘re-grip’ it and control it. He looked at her gratefully. She watched as he put everything he could into holding onto the falling chunk of rock and guiding it to where he wanted it to land. Finally, he really got ahold of it and the rock glided to the spot he wanted, coming to a soft landing almost right on point. He apparated to the point where he placed the fallen bit of space junk and looked at it. It was kind of pointed at one end; melted where the heat had done its work, and rounded at the other. Harley had to keep Sirius from touching it. “Don’t. It’s still really hot.”  
Sirius got close to it and found out that Harley was right. It was hot. That somehow surprised him, though he wasn’t sure why.  
“Lift it, Da. Close your eyes and lift it up. Hold it in mid-air.” Sirius did as she asked, but Harley could see that he was having to put considerable effort into it. He was forcing it.  
“You’re forcing it, Da. Don’t do that. Put it down and then watch me.” He did so; grateful to be able to release his hold on the rock.  
Harley looked at him and he was shocked to realize that the small, semi-circular rock was floating in the air beside her. He felt almost no shift in her magic at all. It was as if she wasn’t using any magic that he could feel. “It’s all will, Da. It will do what you tell it to do. You just have to learn that lesson. Picture what you want to happen and then command your magic to do it.” He stared, stupidly, as the rock shifted form and became a likeness of himself as Padfoot.  
“It will do what you tell it. If your will is strong enough.”  
“How…. ?”  
“Da? Did you love my mother?”  
Sirius stopped his train of thought and looked at her. “You know I did, sweetie. Everyone loved Lily. James and I loved her equally, and we would have both married her, if we had been able to figure out a legal way to make it happen.”  
“Did she love you?”  
There were tears in his eyes now, as he thought about the woman they had lost. “Yes.”  
“Can you trust that, deep down? Can you feel her love?”  
He felt it in the pit of his stomach. Lily’s love was still bright inside him. “Yes.”  
“That’s where your magic is, Da. It’s where her love for you lives. It’s the one true thing I know about magic. Trust the love. Hermione loves me. More than anyone has ever loved me. I can feel her magic and I know that her love is real. With it, I can do anything.” Harley’s face was bright and Sirius could see the happy tears wetting her cheeks. “Watch this” she said, a gleam in her eyes. She put the space-rock down, after returning it to its original (melted) shape and turned to face the Loch. For his benefit, so that he could understand what she was doing, she said aloud, “Accio Aurum!”  
Sirius’ eyes went wide as a huge, bright, yellow cloud started to form over the lake and move towards them. Harley laid her cloak down on the ground and waited. The cloud gathered, thickened, and eventually settled down onto her cloak; raining down like a waterfall of gold instead of water. It fell and fell and fell… for more than ten minutes before eventually trickling off to a small cloud of fairy dust that settled down like a dew. It got on everything and painted Sirius’ meteor with a sheen of gold. It would bollux the Muggles, he knew, for years to come. It made him laugh like a looney-toon.  
He looked at the pile of gold and was astonished. Harley waved her hand and the gold dust mound turned into sixteen bricks of bright yellow gold, each 7” x 3 5/8” x 1 ¾” and weighing 25 pounds. Four hundred pounds of gold. He didn’t know what it was worth, but he knew it was a lot. Harley called out a name and an elf whom Sirius had never seen before popped out of nowhere. Harley said something to him and he popped away, along with the Gold.  
“Where did you send it?”  
“Gringotts. I dumped it into one of our spare accounts, where we put found gold.”  
“Just how much gold have you found?”  
Harley shrugged. “Several thousand pounds. Not sure how many thousands, but several.”  
“Harley? Just how much money do you have?”  
“No idea. Don’t care either. It’s enough to take care of Hermione. That’s all that matters.”  
Sirius was relieved. It was the attitude that he had hoped to hear from his god-daughter as it regarded money and ‘stuff’, but he hadn’t been certain about her feelings until now. Not that it was different from what Isabelle had told him about the way she had raised Harley and not that it changed anything really, but it did give him a great deal more confidence in trusting the legacy of the Black Family to her, if it became necessary.  


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**7:30 am., Office of the Prime Minister, Tuesday morning, Tuesday, Nov. 17th, 1992**

John Major had just sat down at his desk when his personal assistant, a stunningly beautiful, tall, lithe black woman with super-slim hips, perfect, high, pointy breasts, and a figure to make the young, international model Senait Gidey weep with envy, named Hlengiwe (‘Len-Gee-way’) M’Bala walked in with his daily brief. Per Sir John’s tradition and expectation, she sat in on his meetings with the national intelligence advisor and the officers from both MI-5 and MI-6, as well as the advisor from MI-5 & ¾.  
A magical prodigy, she was a graduate of the Rocky Mountain School of Magic at age 14 and the Chicago School for Advanced Magical Studies at 17. Ms. M’Bala spoke eleven languages and had degrees from Oxford and Cambridge, in international business and information analytics and she was one of Sir John’s favorite people in the whole world.  
She was also a spy for the IWC, assigned to keep an eye on the British leader. “Good morning, Sir John. You’re going to not like this mornings’ news.”  
His eyes flashed up to her, since she was close to 5’9” in bare feet. “And why is that?”  
“You’re missing a mountain in Scotland, Sir John. It was there yesterday and then something or someone blew it straight to hell.”  
John Major’s stomach contracted hard. He knew exactly who had the power to destroy a mountain. He wondered if she was just practicing, trying to get his attention, or taking her anger out on the closest target of opportunity.  
“It was someone, for the record, Eshe (‘Esh-ay’). Apparently, she’s unhappy about something or trying to get our attention, or maybe she’s just practicing and she thought we wouldn’t miss that particular mountain.”  
Eshe, which meant ‘life’ in Swahili, was his private nickname for Hlengiwe. He used it to tell her how important she was to him.  
“Your problem-child from Scotland?”  
That designation made Sir John snort in laughter. “Problem-child indeed” he thought to himself. “Yes, Eshe, my ‘problem-child’ from Scotland. Actually, she’s a Yank, by adoption, but she was born to a Scottish family originally and now she’s a sworn member of their Wizengamot as well, making her one of ours.”  
Hlengiwe thought that was very interesting and made a mental note to send it in with her most recent report to the IWC. “No rules against destroying a mountain?”  
He looked up at her, across the rim of his mug of Earl Grey, and said, “Probably is one, but who is going to enforce it? By their rules, it takes 2/3 vote in the Wizengamot to issue a warrant for arrest, and even if they could do that, they won’t, since more than half of the members are beholden to her right now, in one way or the other, or are otherwise just terrified of her.”  
“Queen’s courts can’t touch her?” She asked, feigning ignorance of the reality.  
He looked at her and rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding, right? Just who is going to enforce that? Which officer from MI-6 are you going to send to try to detain her? Or would you propose sending the entire SAS? You’ve read the reports. Our soldiers are nothing to her. Even if we knew where the god-damned school was actually located, which we don’t because we can’t, there aren’t currently enough of them. Not when she can pull meteors out of the sky. God knows what else she can do. One of our operatives swears that he saw her pulling great, rolling balls of lava out of nowhere and dropping them on targets. Just imagine her doing that to our tanks. It would be worse than Gallipoli.”  
Hlengiwe knew a great deal more than Sir John had said. Her reports – the analysis sent by the IWC – said that between Harley and Hermione Ross, there was no force on Earth that could stop them and that no one should try. The girls wanted to be left alone, to love each other and to learn magic. Neither seemed to have even the slightest desire to rule anything, but each had a very, very short temper and not a single compunction against killing when it appeared necessary. It was assumed that threatening either girl would be classified as ‘necessary’ by the other and excuse sufficient to wage a black and terrible war.  
She, for all of her schooling, both on the magical as well as muggle side, knew that for her own health, she wouldn’t go within ten miles of either girl. As the youngest ever War Witch, she was feared, but she was a drop in the bucket against Arch-Magi and she had no problem admitting it.  
“Best to leave her alone then, probably. Maybe a note asking her to please let us know if there are any other mountains that offend her and what she plans to do to them.”  
Somehow, Sir John thought that was very, very funny and he roared with laughter. When he finally calmed down, he looked at her with a smile on his face. “Thank you for that. I needed that.”  
Despite herself, she grinned too. She hadn’t meant to make him laugh, but it was good to see it in him. Gods knew that he had been working very, very hard for his people and that the office weighed on him a great deal.  
“You’re going to have to calm down the President. He’s apparently up in the wires, after their systems declared a “BrightLight” alert as a result of your problem-child’s actions.” She had almost said, “muggle president”, which could have, in an instant, blown her cover completely. She raised her Occlumency shields and tried to calm herself. One screw up could undo years and years of work and planning.  
“Arrange it for me, would you?” he asked.  
When she came back to herself, she looked at him for a split second, before realizing that he had asked her to arrange the phone call with the US President. “Yes, Sir John. I’ll see to it immediately. Say…an hour?”  
He looked at the clock and thought about the time difference. “That will do.”  
She nodded and withdrew. She knew she was going to have to mediate and work on her control. Her mission was too important to screw up.  


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**Early morning, Slytherin House, 3rd year girls’ dorm, about the same time, Nov. 17th**

Millicent Bulstrode felt sick. Something was not right in her head. Somehow, she could tell that she had memories missing, but didn’t know why. Every time she tried to go see the nurse, she somehow got turned away. Something was preventing her from getting help and that something was also angry inside her and she didn’t understand why. A part of her wanted to go and write in her diary and talk to Tom. He seemed to understand her.  
It was a strange coincidence that took her to the third-year common room, because generally, Millie didn’t socialize much. Because of the restrictions imposed by the Headmaster, students were keeping to places that were marked ‘safe’. Those included the dorm and social-rooms, the library, the Great Hall, and the classrooms. Draco Malfoy hadn’t spent much time in the common room, mostly because he had found studying with the H'reem, as they laughingly called themselves (since it was mostly girls, between first and forth year, with Harley and Hermione at the center) was much more fun and more comfortable, as well as much more productive.  
As Draco plunked himself down in front of the fire, he conjured a back-support and a small study desk. It wasn’t quite high enough, so he closed his eyes and thought about what he really wanted. When he opened his eyes, he had to smile. It was perfect. The back support leaned back just enough that he could read his books in comfort, as he sat in front of the fire, and he could write what he needed to, as he worked though the materials they had been assigned by Hermione in their DADA class.  
One of the books was a muggle book on the ethos of self-defense. It was fascinating, because it talked about the fine line between pure defense and offense and how one might be the other, depending on the situation. He also loved the fact that the pictures in the books were sharp and clear and were accompanied with great explanations. He didn’t have to struggle with strange concepts, described poorly, and presented with a dearth of images, like many of the magical defense textbooks. It was one of his favorite textbooks.  
He also loved his chemistry books. They were purely muggle, and described, often with ridiculously profuse images and diagrams, what was going on chemically. That one book alone was worth its weight in gold, since it helped him understand where the line was between magic and chemistry in his potions class. It also told him just how much Potioneers didn’t know about was really going on in the beakers and test-tubes. It brought home the fact that magic often substituted for knowledge.  
One thing that had been slammed home was the fact that the purer the individual ingredients, the better the potion. That meant that refining ingredients was critical. It also opened up a wholly new area of study: Potion ingredient refinement. He wondered about, and he was pretty sure that he could answer the question: What part of Aconite or Beetle’s wings, or Salamander tail was the active ingredient for the potions to which they were added? Or did magic demand something else? Draco was pretty certain that he’d be able to answer that question eventually.  
While all of that was very interesting, and would demand his attention, probably as soon as the next day, the matter at hand was DADA. He had been asked to discuss the times when lethal force was permitted in the magical world and how that differed from the muggle world. He had not been asked to talk about, which he thought curious, what the implications were of the differences between the two.  
Across the room, Millicent sat writing, furiously, in her diary. It was a ragged book and anyone who saw it thought it not worthy of an only daughter. Draco looked up and saw the book and something paralyzed him. He recognized the book. It was something his father once owned and forbidded him from touching. “Don’t touch it, Son. It belonged to the Dark Lord.”  
Draco was so disturbed by it that he got up and walked over to her. “Hi Millie.”  
So wrapped up in her writing her writing was she that she didn’t hear him the first time. When he said it again, she looked up, shocked. Draco was a walking dream. Handsome, strong, magical, and athletic to the extreme, Draco was not someone who’d talk to someone like her.  
“H….hi.” she said.  
“Can I see the book you’re writing in for a moment?”  
“Huh?... Sure.”  
She handed it to him. Draco took it and turned it on its side. It said, “T.M Riddle”. It was the book that his father had forbidded him from touching it and now he knew why. He could feel the evil that was living in the book. Dropping it, Draco looked at her, and then said, “Thanks” before he practically ran out of the room, up the stairs, and straight to the boy’s bathroom. He could Apparate from here directly home and not be seen. He had to talk to his father and it couldn’t wait.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

****

**Malfoy Estate, Kielder Island, just north of Falstone, UK – Tuesday, just before first period of the morning at Hogwarts.**

Draco appeared in the middle of the living room of their beautiful home and looked around. He couldn’t see his parents anywhere. He called out, “Father? Mother?”  
Walking around the house, they weren’t anywhere to be seen. He started to get worried. There was no indication of violence in the house, but it was too quiet. He called out for one of their house-elves. “Alf?”  
!Pop! The house-elf appeared out of nowhere. “Young master calls?”  
“Yes, Alf. I need to talk to my parents and it can’t wait. Please find them.”  
“Yes, Young master. Alf will find Lord Malfoy.”  
Draco took a deep breath and waited. He was grateful that he could find his parents quickly, even if he had to go through one of the house-elves. He didn’t have the power to do what Harley had done in calling out for Hermione, so he didn’t bother even trying.  
Fifteen minutes or more passed before Draco felt the magic of the room shift. It was warm and familiar and he knew that it was his mother. Seeing her, he ran to her and gave her a hug. “Mother.”  
“Son? What brings you home? Shouldn’t you be in school?”  
“I need to speak with father and it can’t wait.”  
Narcissa, now almost visibly pregnant, looked at him with sudden concern and alarm. “Can I ask what it’s about?”  
Draco looked at her. “Father owned something that once belonged to the Dark Lord. He sold it and now it’s in the hands of Lord Bulstrode’s daughter. I felt it. It’s evil.”  
Narcissa paled. “Your father was meeting at the Wizengamot this morning with some of our trading partners.”  
“This can’t wait, mother. Father has to know about this. Lord Bulstrode needs to know.”  
Narcissa looked at her son and saw the determination in his eyes and it made her proud. “Let me send him a message.” Draco nodded, but looked uncertain. He didn’t know how to reach his father.  
Narcissa took out her wand and said, _“Expectro Patronum!”_

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Vido Gibbon, one of the Dark Lord’s most ruthless unmarked followers, gurgled and fell over as Lucius’ Athame gutted him in the semi-darkness of the dank basement room. “I don’t take well to being blackmailed, Vido. It’s too bad that you’re learning that the hard way. We could have made a great of money together. Now, I will have to find someone else to partner with.”  
Vido clutched his stomach, which had been sliced up in such a way that it could not be easily or quickly healed. He was bleeding out internally and only the most skilled healer would have been able to save him. After another minute, Vido’s eyes rolled back and his breathing stopped.  
Lucius stood up and magicked the blood and gore from his clothes. Vido had always disgusted him, but until this day, Lucius hadn’t had a decent excuse to kill him. Pedophiles, especially those who prayed on very young girls and boys, were extremely worthy of killing in Lucius’ book. As he stood to leave, he transfigured the body into a small rock, which he picked up and placed in his pocket. He’d dump it in the lake near his house when he had the opportunity.  
As he moved to the doorway, his wife’s Patronus bounded into the room. “Lucius, please come home.”  
There was an urgency to the tone of voice that came along with the ghostly red fox. That mattered, because his wife was, usually, a very cool, calm, and collected woman. If something was bothering her, he needed to get home.  
With a sweep of his hand, he opened a portal that went right through the wards that were protecting this particular building, as if they weren’t there at all. He grinned. He hated the particular gang that ran the brothel and snubbing their feeling of invincibility was just that much better.  
In the wink of an eye, he was gone, as if he were never there.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Two hundred miles away, Lucius Malfoy appeared silently in the living-room of their near palatial house. It didn’t take long for Draco to run to him and hug him. “Father”.  
Lucius was still somewhat of a stranger to affection from his son, but he knew enough to put an arm around him and hug him tight. “Son? What brings you home, and on a morning when you should be in class?”  
“It couldn’t wait, father. I had to tell you, because of our oath, that the Dark Lord’s diary is in the hands of Lord Bulstrode’s daughter, Millie, and I could feel it. It’s evil and it felt like it’s alive. Much more than when you forbade me to touch it.”  
“I will come with you, Draco. We will see your Headmaster and I will explain the situation. That diary has to be destroyed.”  
Draco nodded and then held out his hand. “Close your eyes, father. You’d not like it if you did this with them open.”  
Lucius took his hand and before he knew it, they were gone.  


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Transfiguration class, First and third year (combined) had been under way for more than a half-hour when Draco Malfoy knocked quietly and then entered. Sirius looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and a ‘we’ll-speak-after-class’ look on his face. However, when Lord Malfoy entered, everything stopped. Per tradition, Hermione, Harley, and the rest of the students lined up and greeted him with proper etiquette.  
For his part, Lucius greeted each student quietly, before begging them to return to the work and not be disturbed by his presence. When he got to Harley and Hermione, he kissed their hands, before accepting curtsies and then hugs from each. “Lord Malfoy” each said, as they hugged him.  
“You beautiful girl. How are you?” he said to each.  
Both blushed and replied softly, “Happy to see you.”  
He then urged them to return to their studies and made his way over to Sirius. “Headmaster, do you have a moment to speak with me? It’s of some urgency.”  
Sirius cocked his head, wondering what brought perhaps the senior member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors to the school. “My office?”  
Lucius nodded. “That will do. This is private and must be resolved.”  
Sirius extended his hand and when Lucius grasped it, the two Apparated away.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Ten minutes later, Sirius looked considerably paler than he had when the morning Transfiguration class had begun. Lucius had departed, leaving the burden of solving the situation to Sirius and to Jane, who would bird-dog the situation together as best they could.  
The first step was to adjust the wards again and that meant having to bring in the Goblins. It would cost the school a great deal of money, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. Potentially having a bit of the Dark Lord’s soul wandering around the school was an even greater problem than having a Basilisk wandering around. They hadn’t made any progress on that front, though it had been resolved that the only way a snake could move around the school was through the plumbing, and that meant that somewhere, there was a faucet or drain that wasn’t what it appeared, but rather a magical entrance for a deadly and (perhaps) uncontrolled killing machine.  
Their breakthrough on that front wouldn’t come for another month.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The close of November brought cold winds and snow to Hogwarts and even the classrooms, with their large fireplaces, magically sealed windows, and wool rugs wasn’t enough to stave off the cold that permeated the castle walls.  
No one was walking to class, not after both Crookshanks and moRon Weasley had been petrified. Everyone else had taken to heart the need to Apparate the way that Harley had taught them.  
Millicent Bulstrode had disappeared, almost immediately after her room had been searched for the offending diary. By the middle of December, no one knew where she was, but no one really cared either. The school’s wards had told Sirius that she hadn’t left the perimeter, and so it was thought she was hiding somehow, but how exactly was a mystery. She wasn’t attending classes anymore and was in danger of being magically unenrolled, if she didn’t turn up by the first day of classes in January.  
When Harley and Hermione found out that the search was on for Millie and for her diary, they took it on to search the Room of Requirement, in every iteration that they could think of to search.  
One thing that had changed though was that Harley and Hermione’s relationship had become more physical, as Harley’s personal confidence (as well as her tits) had grown to a point where she felt more confident about her looks. She was less afraid of showing Hermione that she too was feeling physically needy and less hesitant about talking about her increasing fantasies and desires.  
For Hermione’s part, this change was a major relief, because she was all but climbing the walls with horniness.  
It started in the Great Hall, over dinner, during a lull in the conversation, once the major platters had been served and people were passing food around. Harley had discovered that food was just as amenable to being levitated to her plate as anything else and was happily using the discovery to fill her plate with exact portions of many of the dishes that were being served. It showed exquisite magical control, but it also freed up her right hand to go exploring… and Hermione’s upper thigh was the territory to be explored.  
Hermione’s blush and the shudder that ran up and down her body was not enough to keep Harley from letting her fingers do the walking… right up under Hermione’s suddenly shortened skirt. This prompted the bushy-haired girl to part her legs in invitation, which was all Harley needed.  
By the time the meal was over, Hermione desperately needed to change her panties, since the current pair was a pink cotton, soddened mess. She couldn’t think straight, since she had cum twice, and walking was a challenge. Inside, she was cheering, since it felt absolutely amazing, emotionally and otherwise, that Harley had been brazen enough to make her orgasm hard, twice, practically in front of everyone.  
She wasn’t alone, of course. Other girls looked like they had a similar experience during the meal and Hermione blushed and giggled at the thought that there was a ‘wet-panty’ cadre Apparating off to god-knows where.  
She wondered, as they disapparated to their bedroom, if any boys had found ‘satisfaction’ during the meal. She wondered what that would be like. She knew what a cock looked like when it was hard, since she had her own sex toys (courtesy of her mother), but a warm, real cock was altogether different, since there was a person attached to it and you had to be mindful of that.  
When they arrived at their dorm, Hermione started to undress, since she wanted to be out of the panties that were evidence of her wonderful, hussy wife’s ministrations. “Let me?” Harley asked, coming up behind her and bending over to kiss the nape of her neck.  
“Yes, please” Hermione breathed out quietly, but with a burning desire.  
Harley’s fingers began undoing the buttons of Hermione’s shirt, one at a time, kissing her neck and smelling her perfume. Her touch was deft and every single button got her closer to the button of Hermione’s skirt, which she was very, very much looking forward to undoing…  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Harley and Hermione were not alone in their amour, and couples all over the school were taking advantage of the fact that there were no patrols in the hallways, no teachers on the lookout for wayward students, and no one checking places like the tupping-turret or the hidden passageways between classes. Even in many of the dorm-rooms, at least for the older students, things were tending towards the ‘coed-by-bed’ model.  
Some people had no choice but to stay put, such as the history professor. Squibs had no defense against something as monstrously evil as a basilisk. Others, like Pomona Sprout and Rolanda Hooch simply re-located to their houses in Hogsmeade.  
Even Hagrid avoided the Castle, since his giant-blood was simply not enough protection against the deadly glare of the Basilisk.  
Isabelle was happily stretched out, under the down covers, in the Headmaster’s king-sized bed, naked as the day she was born, and waiting for the next wicked thing that Sirius decided to do to her body. She was amazed at his breadth of knowledge of sexual-pleasure spells and marveled at the fact that he used them at just the right moment, for their mutual benefit.  
They had just gone another round and she was wet and horny. Sirius’ strong hands and his prodigious cock had made her cum so hard that it made the muscles ripple all the way down her back, her legs, and right to the tips of her toes. If she thought about Harley at all, before or after making love to Sirius, it was only to the extent that she hoped that she was happy and content in her love for Hermione, who was already becoming an amazing daughter-in-law. She had no idea that her daughter was, at that moment, falling into a passionate, naked snuggle with Hermione and thinking about her and hoping that she was having fun with Sirius.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**A week later…**

Everyone would have much less pleased to discover what was going on beyond Hogwarts grand walls. Not all was sweetness and light, since that’s often not the nature of man.  
One in particular was tasting the bitterness that is the intersection of ego, jealousy, apostacy, anger, and unrequited love. He wasn’t alone in his apostacy, but in all the other things… those where his to bear alone.  
The particular meeting-place this night was an old, decrepit barn that haunted the landscape upon which it stood. It sat at the top of a mountain river-valley, away from most people, and would do so until the winters’ winds became too much for its rotten timbers and joices. The Great Forest of Issaux was like that. It had meadows, not yet reclaimed by the forest, that were marked by dark, French oak barns. They were stubborn things and took hundreds of years to succumb to the weather, if left alone.  
The small fire that held off the worst of the night’s cold was hidden, for the most part, by the walls and ceilings, as well as a warding spell that made the eye see nothing but the starry background behind the barn, as if the barn wasn’t present in the tableau at all.  
Severus Snape sat on one of the squared-off logs that littered the floor of the barn and he looked across the fire at one who had invited him to this gathering. Johnathan Gibbons had been one of the three Aurors who had attempted to kill Harley Ross, and failed spectacularly, because he had significantly underestimated the tween-age girls’ capabilities and her willingness to kill.  
The other two, Alric Podmore and Phineas Flint, were not much more than hangers-on. Yes, they had gotten through the Auror academy, but that wasn’t saying a great deal. The standards at the Academy had waxed and waned over the years. Some years it produced people like Alastor ‘Mad-eye’ Moody, James and Lily Potter, and others, and sometimes it produced people like Joseph Shunpike (father of Stan Shunpike), who was a threat to his own feet every time he drew his wand.  
“We all know why we’re here?” Gibbons asked.  
Podmore and Flint nodded, leaving the sallow-faced potions-master to glare at the former Auror. “You want into the Castle, so that you can try and fail to kill Harley Ross” he said in a flat, almost monotone voice that none-the-less carried a strong note of ‘you’re an idiot’ with it.  
Gibbons snarled. “Yes, and you’re going to help us, aren’t you?”  
That was far as he got before the almost-invisible, creeping cyanide-filled gas that had been flowing along the floor of the barn overwhelmed him, causing his eyes to roll back, his lungs to seize, and very quickly, his heart to stop. He never saw his compatriots die or the short, tween-age Mage flow out of the darkness, near the one of the upper rafters of the barn, suspended in the air only by the will of her magic. The four would not be found for several months, and their names would never be recorded anywhere, since they didn’t carry muggle ID and they had no dental files on record, anywhere.  
Harley looked down at the bodies, after she was sure they were all dead, and swept away the poison-filled fog. “Thanks, Coca.” She said to the small elf who had been tasked with finding and then following the former potions-master. “That was a great heads-up. I didn’t expect to find all four of them together.”  
“Thank you, Mistress. I’s be going now?”  
“Yes, sweetie. You can go home now. We’re done here.”  
“Thank you, Mistress. You’s be calling Coca if you need anything more.”  
Harley reached down and rubbed the pretty little elf’s back, before she popped away. With a little push of her will, the fire went out, leaving behind cooling embers that wouldn’t threaten anything. It left behind a profound darkness that was even a bit creepy for Harley. Closing her eyes, she willed herself away, back to Hogwarts and the comfort of her bed with Hermione.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Monday, December 7th, just after 8am.**

The terse note that landed on the desk of Amelia Bones was both welcome and not. On one hand, it allowed her to recall Aurors who had been dispatched to Europe and on the other hand, it confirmed that she really was impotent when it came to the matter of Harley or Hermione Ross. It was one thing to suspect that you didn’t have control of a situation, it was quite another to have the fact all but rubbed in your face. Worse when you were sitting on a letter from the sovereign, commanding that you deliver into her presence the two girls forthwith.  
She’d ignore such a directive from anyone else, probably including Fudge himself. However, she was magically obligated to answer this command, because she was sworn in her duty to obey the Queen and to ignore a missive from her was to abrogate her duty. That could cost her magic and there was no way that Amelia was going to risk that.  
Pacing, while trying to decide what to do, took up the better part of the next two hours. Amelia didn’t like the what she was facing, but there was no getting around it. She had been chased out of the Castle, twice, at wand-point and she wasn’t going to risk a third time. This time, she’d send trainee-Auror Tonks, who was sworn to the Lady Ross’ service. Why she was sworn was an issue that still niggled Amelia, but it was a family matter and she had been told, firmly, that it was not open for discussion.  
“Gloria! Get in here!”  
Gloria Upton skittered into her boss’ office, wondering just what the hell was going on now.  
“Gloria, I need to you to draft a letter to the Harley and Hermione Ross, letting them know that the Queen wishes an audience with them at their earliest convenience. Ask them, please, to let me know when that might be, so that we can tell Her Majesty when a good time would be. Also, please let our man inside know that he’s going to be getting company and that he should expect the visit. Also, tell him that under no circumstances whatsoever is he to draw a wand on either girl.”  
Oh shit. Gloria thought to herself. Like Hlengiwe M’Bala, she was a spy for the IWC, in charge of keeping an eye on the head of British law enforcement. Her job was to make sure that the head of the DMLE didn’t go off the rails and do something catastrophically stupid that ended up revealing the existence of magic before it was absolutely critical – which was something that was going to happen within the next fifty years. The IWC knew it and only those who were unforgivably stupid denied it.  
The good news, as far as Gloria could tell, was that HRH knew of the existence of magic and had a nimble, quick-witted, capable head on her shoulders. She’d not run off at the mouth when she learned about the girls’ relationship or their powers. There were several minor daughters of the House of Windsor who were witches and they had always been treated warmly by HRH.  
The note that she had to draft was, on one level, fairly straightforward. She had to ask the two girls to give up a weekend day to go to the Palace in London or to Balmoral Castle, and present themselves to HRH. The difficulty came in wording it so that it was understood that this was a command from HRH, but not in a way that it offended the girls and made them blame the message-bearer. Not that she expected them to do so. They both seemed reasonable, kind girls who were just trying to figure out their place in the world – but one wrong word could set them off, if they felt particularly sensitive about something. That wasn’t completely out of the realm of reality either, since the girls didn’t have the best relationship with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  
It took the better part of two hours to write, re-write, edit, and then re-re-write the letter, before it was approved for release. Gloria personally saw the letter off with the department’s official post-owl: the one spelled for resistance to almost every possible type of interference, magical or otherwise. She expected that they would have it within the next three hours. She looked at her magical watch and saw that it was just before 10:30am. If all went well, the departmental owl would be at Hogwarts by 1:30 or so. She crossed her fingers.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
**Three hours later, at Hogwarts.**

The armored, magically protected DMLE owl flew into Hogwarts and went straight for the Great Hall, where it waited for the appearance of Harley or Hermione Ross. It had been bespelled such that either girl would do as a recipient.  
The bird didn’t have to wait long. Harley and Hermione appeared silently, as out of nowhere, in the middle of the Great Hall, and took their time, walking hand-in-hand, to where they usually sat, which was against the far right-hand wall, about half-way down the table. The bird judged its flight and lept off the ceiling beam, gliding to a quiet landing, right in front of Harley.  
“Hello? And just where are you from?” Harley asked, smiling. The bird held up a leg and the DMLE crest showed itself to her.  
The smile immediately faded. “Ah shit. Not another letter.”  
Hermione put her hand on her wife’s back and rubbed it sympathetically. “Let’s hear what she has to say, before we decide to curse her.”  
Harley nodded. Hermione’s suggestion was sound, even if it delayed any kind of gratification that Harley might receive from killing someone who really needed it. Once the letter had been removed from the birds’ leg, it lifted off and flew out the main doors, to freedom and then home.  
Hermione took the letter and opened it with her Athame. She always liked the reaction she got from people when she took out the 12” long, wicked, double-edged knife. It was matte black, with the gorgeous, square, indigo sapphire in the pommel and it loved Hermione. No one else save for Harley could even touch it.  
After the envelope was open, Hermione was able to extract the letter. She laid it out between them.

**7 December 1992**

Lady Harley Janel Ross:  
_**I am deeply sorry to intrude on your schooling, but it is necessary, unfortunately. Her Royal Highness has commanded an audience with you and your wife, at a time convenient for both of you, no more than 60 days hence. Please let this office know which day(s) would work for you both. We will communicate such to the office of HRH and a time will then be set. I understand that you can deal with transportation to and from the Palace? Please let us know if that is not the case.**_

Sincerely,

**Gloria Upton  
Office of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement  
Department of Magical Law Enforcement,  
Ministry for Magic, UK  
London, UK  
1-011-44-020-62442**

Hermione looked at the letter and then at her wife, whom she knew was feeling agitated. Hermione put her hand on top of Harley’s and said, “Shhhhh. It’s alright. It will be fine. Besides, if you’re a nice girl, I’ll do that thing we talked about the other night for you….”  
Harley sighed and knew she’d been beat. Then she giggled. “Really? Promise?”  
“Uh-huh. I’ll even wear that item you liked so much on Fay.”  
That got Harley’s attention. The teddy in question had no bottom to it. Just a lacey outline of one. It was white and sexy as hell and just thinking about it did delicious things to her body.  
“I’ll be a good girl! I promise!” She squealed.  
Hermione grinned. She loved how much she had her wife wrapped around her finger. Every day Harley became a little more enthusiastic for their bedroom games and a little less reserved or hesitant. It was awesome. If wearing a lace teddy that had no coverage for her bum was what it took to help Harley find her courage and her ‘good-girl’ behavior, then Hermione was all for it. Besides, it wasn’t everyone who was commanded to the Queen’s presence and she was looking forward to it.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The Christmas break was coming fast and everyone was getting itchy. There hadn’t been any progress on finding the entrance that the basilisk was using to get in and out of the main parts of the school, but there was progress in closing off possible entrances. All of the secret passages that Sirus had known about when he was a student at the school had been closed forever. Additionally, the magically expandable sewer pipes were warded, so that they couldn’t open beyond a certain point, in the hope that the restrictions would help to contain the monster.  
It was Professor Flitwick’s suggestion that they install the magical version of motion-detectors in all of the hallways, so that anything larger than a person would get picked up by the wards. It took the entirety of the first week of Christmas break, while the students were out and away, to get it done. Once it was done though, the Castle was closed up entirely. All of the elves were dispatched to either St. Mungo’s in London or St. Jean’s in Paris, to help patients at the two hospitals.  
Those belonging to Harley and Hermione, seventy-two strong, were dispatched into the Forbidden Forest to harvest Acromantula spider-silk, as well as certain herbs and fungi that were only harvestable on the 21st of December, the winter solstice, when the moon was at its apex. After that, they were directed to clean Hermione’s parents’ house thoroughly as well as Isabelle’s house in Canada. They were all given the 25th off, which some of them protested, until Dobby, Winky, and others explained the day to them and told them to go and be happy together.  
It had been decided that Christmas day would be spent at the house in Norway, to keep Minerva company and to hide from the rest of the magical world. The Norwegian magical police had been (politely) but firmly asked to back off and to leave them alone for the week. Hermione promised, on her behalf and on Harley’s, that they wouldn’t drop any meteors in the area – unless, of course, they were provoked.  
The sadness of Christmas came in the shape of Minerva’s obvious decline. The solitude had not hurt her, but it hadn’t helped her either, and it was not hard to see that her strength had begun to wane. It was harder for her to call up her magic and she became tired much more easily. Harley, in particular, spent a lot of time hugging her and getting her to tell stories of her younger days. Minerva acquiesced and built a permanent library of memory vials, to show the two girls, and whomever else was interested, memories of her younger days.  
It would be Minerva’s post-Christmas project, at the request of the WWII (magical) museums in London, Paris, Germany, and the United States [via MCUSA] once they all got wind of what she was doing, to provide specific memories that highlighted events to which she was privy. Her gifts would eventually, though she wouldn’t live to see it, provoke hundreds of others who were still alive to provide their memories; giving historians treasure-troves of new details that would eventually re-write entire chapters of books, from the liberation of certain death-camps to the eventual fight against Grindelwald. Even Albus would be prodded into supplying memories, on the promise that it would give him several weeks away from Azkaban while he did so.  
They – Sirius, Hermione, Harley, and some of the elves – told Minerva about the Basilisk, which earned from her a whack upside Sirius’ head. “Ye daft, fuckin bampot! You’re a wee Animagus. Surely ye can smell the great fuckbumper? Follow the trail!”  
Sirius was honest enough to look ashamed for not having thought of it before. It was obvious that a great beast like a basilisk would leave a scent-trail a mile wide; one that should take him right to its main entrance/exit into and from the school.  
Sheepishly, he looked at his former transfiguration teacher and bowed his head. “You’re right, Minnie. I’m sorry. I should have thought of that sooner.”  
Minerva looked at him and a smile crept over her face. Even more so when Sirius moved to hug her. Isabelle looked on and saw the tears in her daughters’ eyes. She wondered whether Harley understood the fears and sadness of anticipated loss that Sirius was feeling. Harley was a lot of things: loving, funny, gentle, competitive, kind… and incredibly empathetic. It was one of the things that Isabelle loved most about her daughter. Hermione loved her for it too, but where Hermione was hesitant at times, especially when it came to caring for someone’s hurt – which was not because she didn’t care or did feel empathy, but because she thought she might be judged for it. It was a reaction, her parents knew, from her days in elementary school, when some of the children with whom she attended classes were particularly cruel.  
Harley didn’t have any of those hesitancies, having since she had been largely home-schooled for all of her formative years. She was instinctively empathetic, which was if she had understood it correctly, something that came in strong measure from her biological mother, Lily Potter.  
It was Minnie who brought up the subject of Harley and Hermione’s relationship, as they sat in the semi-darkness of the living-room, with nothing but the fire from the fireplace as light.  
“Tell me, ma wee gorblin, how are the two of you? Is the light of love between you still?”  
Harley and Hermione were sitting together in one of the overstuffed chairs, facing both the fire and their former transfiguration teacher. Hermione took Harley’s hand in hers and concentrated on how much she loved Harley. Harley, for her part, let her magic flow all around her wife, even as her free hand pulled them tight together. The light that they gave off was incandescent; filling the room for a moment like the brightest sun.  
Sirius had only ever seen the Nimbus lumens Amor once before, and that was when James and Lily were alive, and it had never been as strong as the one produced by his God-daughter and her wife. He surmised that it was because they were mages and James and Lily weren’t.  
The Norwegian magician, from their department of magical law enforcement, didn’t know what he did to give away his position on the porch, since he had, after all, wrapped himself in an invisibility cloak, silenced his breathing, his shoes, masked his scent, and applied a warming charm all over so that the snow wouldn’t accumulate on him while he observed the goings-on inside the house. However, somewhere along the line he had tripped up and now… he knew he was going to pay for his mistake. If he lived long enough.  
“You know” a voice called out to him, “The last assholes who pissed me off got banished to Moscow, naked. I’m stronger since then. So… you have a choice. Up or sideways?”  
Up sounded distinctly unpleasant, since this was the home of the girls who played catch with million-ton meteors. It had to be sideways then. The fear in his voice was obvious as he croaked out,  
“Sideways”.  
In a moment, he was banished, and Harley promptly forgot about him. The spy, however, didn’t forget about her, as he landed, in the dark, naked, in the woods, somewhere, a very, very great distance away from where he had just been. His saving grace was that he had his wand and he remained calm.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

“So… where did you send him?” Sirius asked his God-daughter, once they stepped back inside the house. “I think he’s somewhere in the Sreddiny Range, but I’m not sure. I was aiming for the southern tip of the Kamchatka peninsula.”  
Sirius swallowed hard. If Harley was right, she had just banished a man over five thousand miles. He’d be lucky to make it home by spring, if he lived… and there were just no guarantees to that.  


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**January 24, 1993 – The Palace in London, UK**

There had never been an occasion like it during the Queen’s rule over England and the SAS troops hoped that there never would be again. The personal protection unit that had always been dedicated solely to the defense of Her Royal Highness had been disarmed and told that they would wait outside the Queen’s chamber, until further notice. It had so infuriated the head of the Unit that he demanded to know what was going on and who was going to be visiting her Majesty. So they told him. Then he was shown the video of the PM’s meeting. He came very close to quitting, but ultimately refused to let his fear overcome him. Then they told him about the cost of knowing the secret.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

At precisely 3PM, Harley and Hermione appeared in the small, private foyer that served as the outer area for the small receiving hall that the Queen used for times when she could not host someone in an ‘official’ capacity. The girls were dressed in their finest Acromantula silk robes, with their house sigils present. Each wore her Athame, prominently displayed, and necklaces that rivaled anything the Queen owned. They were in 3” heels, giving them sufficient height that they looked more like miniature adults than tween-age girls. Both had their wands tucked between their shoulder-blades. This served two purposes. One, it kept their posture correct and it kept the wands out of the way but reachable.  
Finally, each wore her wedding ring on her left hand and her house-ring on her right. Harley’s rings were blended together, as she was head of both House Potter and House Ross. This didn’t go unnoticed by some of Her Majesty’s retainers. Especially the wedding rings. Hermione’s perfect, blue, 3ct diamond was just large enough that was visible across the room, while the matching 3ct, internally flawless sea-green emerald that Harley wore was, if anything, even more spectacular, since it was magically iridescent.  
Immediately upon appearing, they were set on by Her Majesty’s personal attendants – a tall, beefy, burly man with receding red hair and a short, somewhat bushy mustache and a woman with short, dark, cropped hair, intense blue eyes, and a military bearing. Hermione did the first thing that came to mind and stunned both of them, causing them to collapse onto the floor. After binding the man, she revived the woman, only this time, she had her wand out and pointed between the eyes.  
“Now, let’s start again. My name is Hermione Jane Ross, nee Granger. My wife and I were commanded here by Her Majesty. We did not expect to be accosted.”  
The woman looked at Hermione, looked at the knife she was carrying, and then at the wand. She put two and two together and more or less came up with the right number. “I see” she said finally. “I am  
Sally Ann McDermott, personal attendant to Her Royal Majesty.”  
Hermione bade her to stand. “I am going to leave him” and she pointed to the man on the floor, “to sleep awhile. He should wake up on his own in about 4 hours. Please let any of the other attendants know that attacking us is a short trip to Hell. We clear on that?”  
The woman looked at Hermione, just short of horrified. Finally Hermione had to say, “Clear?”  
Sally Ann McDermott nodded reluctantly. “Yes, absolutely clear.”  
“Good. Now that we have that out of the way, we are expected by Her Majesty. Would you like to introduce us or should we do it ourselves?”  
Sally Ann McDermott stood, gathered herself as best she could, and made her way to the next chamber. After two minutes, she returned and bade Hermione and Harley to follow her.  
The room that they walked into was spectacular, in a quiet, British manner. The rugs were rich, full, wool weave, while the tapestries were obviously silk, done in magnificent reds, rich blues and browns, and the subtlest purples and lavenders. Hermione immediately fell in love with them. She knew what she wanted for her Christmas gift!  
Harley, for her part, looked around and saw the fireplace and the gorgeous stonework that surrounded it. It wasn’t so much jointed as it was one perfect piece of stone, exquisitely worked into one amazing work of art. She wanted to run her hands over it and feel the perfectly smooth face and study the patterns of the rock. Oh! To have a bathtub or jacuzzi made of the stone… she almost dreuled.  
They were brought up short by Sally Ann’s voice. “Your Royal Majesty? May I present Hermione Jane Ross, nee Granger and Lady Harley Janel Ross, of the House of Ross?”  
Hermione and Harley saw the Queen and both took a knee and bowed their heads.  
Queen Elizabeth II had not had anyone kneel in her presence since… since that dratted fellow, Albus something. She looked at the girls, who remained kneeling, and said, “Rise, my children.”  
Both Hermione and Harley did as biddened. They stood tall and quiet, waiting on Her Majesty’s pleasure.  
“Nothing to say?”  
Harley spoke for them. “Your Gracious Majesty, you are our sovereign Queen. Your words are law. We come in answer to your call.”  
At age 66, the Queen was a strong, energetic woman whose mind was sharp and facile. “Yes. Thank you for coming into our presence. We were not amused by your casual destruction of one of our mountains and wanted assurances that such would not be the case going forward.”  
“If you command it, your Highness, it will never be so.”  
“You destroyed one of my planes.”  
“Yes, your Majesty. Your Prime Minister had doubts about our abilities. We, that is I, chose that is a suitable target to show him that his view of the world and of us, was wrong and needed correcting.”  
She looked at Harley for a long moment. “We have been told by those in the know that there are no limits to your powers. Is that true?”  
Hermione answered for them, since this was a question that she had been sure would come up. “No, your Majesty. I can kill you with my will, but I cannot raise you from the dead. That is the only absolute restriction that we know of. Everything else, at least everything else we’ve ever tried, has worked. If we will it strongly enough, we can do it.  
Now there are things, like demon-summoning, that we will not do, just because it is so unspeakably dangerous. The Greater demons are never, ever to be allowed into this world. It would take the world’s wizards and witches, working together, to force some of them back to where they come from, and no one is going to risk that.”  
The Queen looked at her and then asked the question. “Is there life after death?”  
Because they were compelled by their oaths, they had to answer the question, even though it was the one thing that they had promised themselves that they would not talk about voluntarily. “Yes, your Majesty. There is.”  
Elizabeth II, the stoic woman that she always was in public, let go of her control and wept. Harley wanted to hug her, but she knew the protocol and didn’t dare touch her. “Thank you” she finally got out. Harley silently conjured a silk handkerchief and offered it to her Queen. Elizabeth took it, not realizing that the young girl before her had just made the cloth out of what was, to her, thin air.  
When the Queen had gathered herself sufficiently, she smiled. “I lost my parents many, many years ago and I still miss them. That there is a next life gives me hope like I have never had before.”  
Both girls nodded in understanding. Standing before the death-arch had been a transformative experience for them, listening to all the voices that echoed from the hereafter. They had both come away from it shaken, but hopeful.  
“Your Majesty, you understand, right, that you can’t talk about this, to anyone. Soul magic is both the most amazing and profoundly dangerous of any magic that we do in our world. It is the great secret of our world. If the religions of the mundane world were to learn that the next life is an absolute certainty and that Heaven is real, it could be profoundly dangerous and perhaps incredibly destructive.”  
The Queen nodded. “You are both wiser than I was prepared for. My people did not warn us that we would be in the presence of small adults.”  
“Your gracious Majesty, please excuse us if we find that funny. We do not consider ourselves adults. We’re just two girls who love each other and who just want to be left alone to study magic and live our lives.”  
“We understand and will order that are left alone by our government. We do not speak for other governments, but we assume that they will learn, or you will find mountains to use to teach them.”  
The last part the Queen said with a rueful smile.  
“Yes, your Majesty. Mountains do make excellent teaching-tools. We will work to preserve those here in your Majesty’s kingdom, so that they will forever be a testament to your Majesty.”  
“You still owe us for the airplane.”  
It was Harley’s turn to laugh. She knew that she’d have to make amends for that particular bit of destruction and she had just the item to do it with. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a box that was perhaps two inches by an inch high by eight inches long. “Your Majesty, I’m going to put this box on the table and then I’m going to cancel the shrinking charm on it. It will grow significantly. Inside is a gift for you. I will ask you to open the box, when it’s fully enlarged, so that my wife and I might have the joy of seeing your expression when you realize what it is.”  
The queen nodded. “And nothing will be harmful to our person?”  
Hermione was ready for that. “Your Majesty, if we were to injure even a hair on your head, our magic would take our lives. Our oath is to you, personally, and to the Monarchy. We will never, ever be a threat to you or to anyone in your family.”  
“Very good then. Proceed.”  
Harley put the box down on the nearby desk and then waived her hand over it. It began to grow, until it reached its full size – five feet by 10” high by 10” wide. The box was shiny black now, with an ornate white silk bow on it. It took her Majesty a moment to lift the cover and set it aside, but when she did, her expression was everything that both Harley and Hermione had wished for when they were making the gift. Lifting it up, the Queen felt the heft of it and was completely staggered by the ornate detail of it.  
“Does it meet with your Majesty’s approval?”  
The Queen looked at her, as if to ask how could you ask such a dumb question?  
The staff that they had wrought was of 22kt. gold, taken from the countryside, and woven together in long, ornate strands, forming a five-foot-long golden stave, with the 400ct., giant blue diamond at the top. On a band, about half-way up the stave, was written the motto: Magna Britannia in aeternum. It was, as her Majesty considered it, a priceless gift.  
“There’s one more thing, your Majesty. I’ve spelled it so only you, or a member of your family will ever be able to wield this stave. It will be proof of that person’s right to rule. Hermione has imbued it with a ton of protective spells, which will also link to your family. While you hold this stave, not a single one of our kind will be able to touch you. The only catch is… we need a little bit of your blood to make it work.”  
The Queen looked hard at her. Harley took out her Athame, a truly wicked-looking double-edged knife, and handed it, pommel-first, to the older woman.  
“What must I do?”  
“Draw it across your non-dominant palm. Allow the blood to pool and then smear it on the stave. If it works the way we think it will, the blood will be absorbed and you’ll never see it. I will heal your hand afterwards.”  
With some trepidation, the Queen did as instructed. She was surprised that the cut itself didn’t hurt at all. When she had gathered what she thought was enough blood, she smeared it on the stave. It worked just like she had been told it would.  
Harley stepped forward and with the gentlest flick of her wand, healed her sovereign’s hand. “All done, your Majesty. The stave will guard your family for eternity. You can display it, or not, but we recommend that you always have the stave nearby, in case someone who is less than friendly comes looking for you or yours.”  
“We are most pleased. Most pleased indeed, and we are grateful to both of you.”  
“We serve your Majesty.” Harley said quietly.  
“Very well then. No more mountains?”  
“None then, your Majesty, anywhere where your face shines.” Harley said, with a smile and some cheek.  
“We will be in touch then, my children.”  
Knowing a dismissal when she heard one, Harley fell to one knee. “Yes, your Majesty. Thank you for receiving us.”  
Hermione knelt next to her wife. “Thank you, your Majesty. God Save the Queen.”  
Taking Harley’s hand, the two disappeared, into the black twilight that always marked their comings and goings.  
Elizabeth II looked at the spot where the two girls had been kneeling and thought hard about what had just happened. Every moment of the encounter had been video-taped and watched from a dozen angles. Not that a single one of her guard could have done a blessed thing if the girls wished her ill… but that was covered by their oaths, as they had been explained to her, prior to the meeting.  
She hefted the stave in her hands and stared at the massive egg-shaped blue diamond that sat atop it. It was as large or larger than any other gem that made up the Crown Jewels and that was saying something, because some of those were massive. It was an incredible addition to those jewels and would set a new standard for gifts to the monarchy.  
Her thoughts were sidetracked when her retainer, Sally Ann McDermott, entered the room. “My Queen?”  
“We are very well, Ms. McDermott. We have been given an extraordinary gift. See to it that it is photographed and then returned to our presence.”  
“Is it safe, your Majesty?”  
“I dare say so, Ms. McDermott. You are aware of the oaths that these magicals take?”  
“I am passingly aware, my Queen.”  
“Then you know that their oaths would strike them down if anything were to happen to me?”  
“Their oaths, your Majesty?”  
“Yes, Ms. McDermott, their oaths. Apparently, magic has a cost if you violate it. In this case, injury to our person, if caused by a magical, would cost that magical his or her life.”  
Sally Ann McDermott was unaware of that particular bit of knowledge and said so. The Queen’s response was a raised eyebrow and said something that would end up haunting her for a while, “Fix that then.”  
Hearing that she was being ordered to expand her knowledge of the magical world, Sally Ann McDermott decided to take advantage of MI 5 3/4 and find out what she was really missing.  


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	4. Dawn's New Light - Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Muggle government of the UK learns a lesson, Valentine's Day comes to Hogwarts, students travel to Rome, and Cho shows just why she should be feared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

****

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Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 4  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com

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From Chapter Three…

She hefted the stave in her hands and at the massive egg-shaped blue diamond that sat atop it. It was as large or larger than any other gem that made up the Crown Jewels and that was saying something, because some of those were massive. It was an incredible addition to those jewels and would set a new standard for gifts to the monarchy.  
Her thoughts were sidetracked when her retainer, Sally Ann McDermott, entered the room. “My Queen?”  
“We are very well, Ms. McDermott. We have been given an extraordinary gift. See to it that it is photographed and then returned to our presence.”  
“Is it safe, your Majesty?”  
“I dare say so, Ms. McDermott. You are aware of the oaths that these magicals take?”  
“I am passingly aware, my Queen.”  
“Then you know that their oaths would strike them down if anything were to happen to me?”  
“Their oaths, your Majesty?”  
“Yes, Ms. McDermott, their oaths. Apparently, magic has a cost if you violate it. In this case, injury to our person, if caused by a magical, would cost that magical his or her life.”  
Sally Ann McDermott was unaware of that particular bit of knowledge and said so. The Queen’s response was a raised eyebrow and said something that would end up haunting her for a while, “Fix that then.”  
Hearing that she was being ordered to expand her knowledge of the magical world, Sally Ann McDermott decided to take advantage of MI 5 3/4 and find out what she was really missing.  
****

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Office of the Prime Minister of England, Monday, January 25, 1993

The fallout from the meeting between HRH and the House of Ross was being felt almost immediately. HRH’s command that her lady-in-waiting, Sally Ann McDermott, educate herself on the ways of magicals had begun turning over rocks, some of which the PM had already turned over and others that hadn’t occurred to him.  
One of the ones that he had failed to flip over was the Royal Archivist who, upon request, had turned over to Sally Ann a book, written in the late 18th century, that went into great detail about the magical families, their customs, their genealogies, and most importantly, an introductory discussion about not just the nature of magic, but about magical oaths – how they were created, enforced, and avoided, unless absolutely necessary.  
A copy of the relevant section was immediately forwarded to the PM, for his erudition and advantage, in the event that he had to deal with any more magicals. A copy was also shared with HRH, for the benefit of the entire family and so that she could see the truth of what she had been told by the Ladies Ross.  
A further copy was sent to the head of MI-5 & ¾ so that he could better protect himself if necessary. He was also put on the watch-list by MI-6, and a 4-man, revolving team was assigned to watch him 24x7 for a year. Their efforts would come to naught though, since it was impossible to hide such a team from the Unspeakables and it was impossible to keep the Unspeakables from getting access to the head of Dept. F – 5 & ¾.  
However, the Unspeakables weren’t the only game in town anymore. A communique between the Ladies Ross and HRH led the Royal Family to invest some of its private wealth with the Goblins, in the form of war-wards, placed all around Balmoral Castle, as well as Buckingham Palace and Windsor Palace. This had the twin effect of endearing the Ladies Ross to the Goblins of London even further and garnering the appreciation of HRH and her children, since the war-wards would keep out anyone who sought to harm the royal family or gain surreptitious access to the Queen.  
Proof of the effectiveness of the war-wards would be found in the unparalleled stream of invective by one, Saul Croaker, on a Thursday evening in late January 1993, when he ended up going for one execrably cold swim in the Themes river, a ways down-river, towards the sea. He had been bounced off the wards and re-directed by the anti-apparition wards that the Goblins had so effectively installed.  
  
**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**   
  
**Hogwarts, January 31, 1993**  
  
Things had gotten appreciably better at Hogwarts since Sirius’ return after the holidays. The Basilisk, Sirius discovered, was coming from somewhere in the east wing of the castle on the 2nd floor. The only thing that was in that wing was a disused lavatory and a dusty classroom that used to serve as an overflow room for classes in the west wing of the Castle, nearest to the Headmaster’s office. It was easy enough to have a group of elves, 40 in all, bring large granite blocks that were then stacked, on top of each other, to form a wall. A bit of transfiguration and the whole of that wing was permanently sealed off with a 1 ft. think granite wall that was all but impenetrable.  
  
It was also the wall that led to the greater victory for the school, but that wouldn’t come to fruition until close to the end of the semester.  
  
**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**   
  
**Department of Mysteries, February 6, 1993**  
  
Saul Croaker was swearing a lot these days. Sirius Black had absconded with his senior aid, Jane Court, and he hadn’t been able to replace her with anyone who was anywhere close to competent. It was as if the pool of potential candidates had up and disappeared.  
  
Further, wards were springing up around a lot of muggle government buildings that had never had them before. Places that Unspeakables had been able to enter unhindered were now off-limits to them, unless they (the Unspeakables) wanted to bring ward-breakers against them. To do so would be like knocking on someone’s front door with a sledge hammer. It would immediately alert everyone in the building and that kind of defeated the whole purpose of his agency.  
  
Worse, his assets, mostly squibs or first-borns who had left the magical world but were in positions to be useful to his department, were being found, apprehended, and forced to swear magical oaths that made it impossible for the Unspeakables use them as covert operatives, knowingly or not.  
  
It looked like the Muggle government had figured out where its vulnerabilities were and were seeking to plug the holes. Soon, he figured, the Muggle government would be all but impenetrable to his department. That included those whom they had routinely targeted in the past: leaders of the major political parties, the Ministers of the various departments, and various military leaders. Someone had tipped them off to how magical oaths work and the value of enforcing them where possible.  
  
And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, Hogwarts had gone radio-quiet. There wasn’t a peep coming out of the school. No letters, no Patroni, nothing. Not knowing what was happening at the school was worrisome in the extreme. The Unspeakables had always relied on Hogwarts as a source of fresh talent and, occasionally, of new magics. Now there were two Magi – both of whom had no cause to trust or even like him – and they were building a student war-machine.  
  
Students who were known to him through their parents relayed stories of impossible magics: Conjuring of gold out of thin air, flying without a broom or a rug, but simply by focused will; dragon-summoning, demon-banishing, as well host of other things, all of which scared the crap out of him. That didn’t include the worst one of all – the summoning of world-ending kinds of meteors. The Unspeakables were facing their worst challenge since the rise of Grindelwald, and even he never did the kind of magics that these two Magi were achieving.  
  
Even the Daily Prophet had gone quiet. It was being forced to report on depressing topics like the significant decline in child-births in the magical world, the destruction of the environment by the Muggles – something that was affecting Magicals more and more, as the muggles fucked up more and more habitat that was needed by magical species of plants and animals, and the increase in gun-violence on the streets of every major city where magicals lived and worked. The paper had been forced to go into great detail to explain what a gun was, why it was so dangerous, and how to protect yourself against them. Amelia Bones had been forced to issue a warning to the Magicals of Great Britain about the increase in gun-violence and the right of every magical to stun first and ask questions later, citing the fact that stunning a Muggle was permissible, since it didn’t leave any lasting injury and no memory of being stunned.  
  
No one reported on the death of three former Aurors and the former potions-professor at Hogwarts, since their deaths had not been discovered and would not be for another nine months… and by then it would be far too little news, reported only by a small, French newspaper. No one looked into the death of Vido Gibbon either, since the Gibbon family had never been anything more than hoodlums, thugs, and thieves. In fact, both the Wizarding Wireless and the Daily Prophet were struggling to find things to report on that were ‘newsworthy’. It was as if the magical society of Great Britain had suddenly gone quiet and no one could figure out why. It wasn’t true, of course, but that was everyone’s impression.  
  
One person who was making news was Cornelius Fudge. Whether by quirk of fate or by dint of good luck, the Minister for Magic had found three people, half-bloods all, who were financial and tax experts and they were doing exactly what Amelia Bones had suggested: overhauling the tax code for magical Great Britain and bringing its financial accounting principles as well as its business laws into something that more closely resembled the 20th century. It would be three to six months before the first impacts of the changes would start to be felt, but when they did, Cornelius Fudge privately expected a business boom the likes of which had never been seen among British magicals. He was already writing the first chapters of his anticipated memoir, “Greatness: My story of the Long Road Up”  
  


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**February 14th, 1993 – Valentine’s Day – Hogwarts.**  
  
Hermione Ross née Granger woke to the best dream. She was walking down the aisle, dressed in white silk, to the strains of the Trumpet Voluntary in A, the Prince of Denmark’s March, to join her wife at the altar, so that they could be bound in public matrimony, for all to see, for this life and all eternity. A voice, somewhere, was calling… ‘Mione? Love?  
  
Finally, she stirred and opened her eyes. Her wife was sitting up, dressed only in a white silk chemise, with a circlet of flowers in her hair, and holding a dozen blood-red roses in her arms. Across the room was an entire coffee service and rich continental breakfast, on rare, solid platinum trays. “Happy Valentine’s day, love.”  
  
Hermione could feel Harley’s love for her, running up and down her body. She had gone to bed naked, for the very first time, and now Harley’s eyes were all over her. “I went and got these for you this morning. They were just picked.”  
  
Hermione’s eyes went wet with happy tears. “They’re beautiful, love!”  
  
Harley smiled. She wanted Hermione to be happy and it was such an easy thing to get flowers for her.  
  
“I love you, Hermione. Will you be mine?”  
  
No longer inhibited by the fact that she was naked, Hermione struggled up, onto her knees, and leaned forward to kiss her wife. “I love you too, you silly girl. Of course I’m yours. I always will be.”  
Knowing that kissing her girl threatened to crush the beautiful roses, Hermione magicked them aside, onto one of the tables, and silently conjured a vase for them. It would keep them safe when Harley had her wicked way with her.  
Across the room, Fay and, Alicia, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson – who had all ended up sharing a bed after Quidditch practice the evening before, watched Hermione and her silent magic with something like envy, though they knew – based on Hermione’s teachings – that they could probably do the same, given enough time and practice. They also watched Harley as she stripped out of her chemise and let her very magic hands go to work on Hermione. Given that most of the girls were at least thirteen, the eroticism of the moment got to them and they slid back under the covers and went to work on each other.  
  
 ****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Across the school, similar scenes were playing out. One such was taking place in the Slytherin boy’s 3rd year dorm.

Normally Draco woke to the god-awful snoring of Greg Goyle, but somehow that had been silenced this morning and the room was quiet. Also, his bed seemed more crowded than it usually did.  
That’s when Draco really woke up. The bodies that were pressing against his were warm and snugly and they were distinctly female. In turning his face, so that he could see who was laying next to him, he also had to turn his body and that’s when he realized that part of him was already very awake and “it” was poking one of his sudden bed-mates.

The girl getting poked giggled. “And hi to you too” she said. That was the moment Draco knew who one of his visitors was. Daphne Greengrass.

She met his eyes and then leaned forward to do something that Draco had never thought about before: she kissed him. “Happy Valentine’s, Draco”

Draco was a gentleman, but he also was a naked barely-teenage boy, laying in a bed, next to a semi-naked girl. His erection twitched, which drove it up and into her waiting hand. She smiled and him and leaned closer to him so that she could press her nose and her forehead to his. She started stroking his cock and Draco felt the oddest sensation. His cock was growing in her hand! He could feel his cock growing both harder and longer. How much so, he couldn’t tell, but it was definitely happening.

“I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for us so far. I thought I was going to be miserable, coming back this year, but you’ve been wonderful.”

“Huh….uh…ohhhhhhh.” Draco moaned as Daphne continued to pleasure him with her hand.

“Like that?” Daphne giggled. “I’m glad. My cousin Courtney said you would, but I’ve never done this before.”

He looked at her and his eyes met hers as she continued. “Tracy’s going to be jealous when she wakes up and realizes that I got to you first.”

Draco was really confused. His body was responding to Daphne just fine, even though he thought that maybe it was boys that did it for him.

“You…. you don’t have to do this, you know” he squeaked out in-between moans of pleasure.

Her eyes twinkled and she giggled. “But I wanted to, and besides, it’s fun.”

Draco wasn’t going to argue. Her hand was so warm and was starting to get really slick, as his excitement grew. “It feels wonderful” he whispered, trying to contain his pleasure so that entire dorm-room and all of his suite-mates wouldn’t hear what was going on.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt the body behind him moving and a warm pair of lips kissing his neck. “You got started without me.”

The voice was soft and surprisingly sensuous, but at the same time, impossible to mistake. Tracey Davis had snuggled into his bed, behind him, and was pushing her long, silky body up next to his.

Draco’s brain was close to exploding. He couldn’t believe that the two girls he liked best in Slytherin House were in his bed, saying hello in the most intimate way possible. It didn’t help that Daphne’s had was working its magic and he was on the verge of cumming.

Tracey looked over Draco’s shoulder and saw her best friend. She tittered, “Hi Daph. You beat me to the prize!”

Daphne didn’t break her eye-contact with Draco, since it seemed to be linked to the pleasure she was giving him, but she did manage to get out, “I got lucky.”

Draco didn’t bother voicing the thought that he had gotten lucky too and that there wasn’t anything that would make him give his place over to anyone else, no matter the trade for doing so.

Tracey wasn’t about to be out-done though. She was naked, save for the cotton bikini panties that she was wearing, which gave her an advantage over her best friend, since Daphne had chosen to wear a silk chemise as well as silk panties to bed with Draco. Tracey pressed her chest against Draco’s back; knowing that he would feel the hard nubs that were her nipples rubbing against his back and that, all things being equal, it would turn him on a lot. She also reached down and started caressing his ass, which she had been told was a secret, but very effective erogenous zone on a boy or young man. Draco’s immediate and enthusiastic response to her touch let her know that, no matter what Daphne might do, she had his attention.

She whispered in his ear, “You like that, do you? So do I. I can’t wait to have you touch my bum… “

Somehow, the thought of doing that actually turned Draco on more, which he thought was close to impossible, given the pleasure he was receiving from Daphne’s hand.

The truth of the situation was that Draco was shocked that both his mind and his imagination were reacting so well to these two girls. He had thought that it was going to be boys that did it for him, but the situation said otherwise. It was odd, but it was also true that he had never gotten the chance to be with a girl before and especially this close. He certainly didn’t react to Harley or Hermione this way, but he wondered if that was because their magic was so powerfully intertwined with each other and because each of them was so vastly more powerful than he. Was it possible that his magic was aware that there was no possible match with either of them, and therefore he didn’t react to them? If so, that would explain a fair number of things that Draco had observed in the couples that he knew. Certainly his parents were well matched. They were both powerful, but neither was in a class that was observably below or above the other. He had also watched the Headmaster and Harley’s mother together, and they seemed very well suited for each other magically – though he didn’t know the intimate details of their relationship.

Tracey wasn’t done with Draco… not by a long-shot. He started to gasp as her hands moved down and then between his legs, so that she could caress his sack while Daphne continued to stroke his cock. It was too much for him and he almost cried out as his orgasm freight-trained its way down his body; roughly pushing aside any other thoughts he might have had.

The girls giggled and Tracey whispered in his ear, “Feel better?”

“Thank… thank you” he finally got out.

Daphne cleaned her hand magically and then reached up to pull Draco’s face to hers, so that she could kiss him. “You’re welcome. Now… it’s our turn!”

Well, fair was fair, Draco thought, and he remembered what his father had always said, “Malfoys always pay their debts.”

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Draco ended up learning a great deal about young girls’ bodies… much more than he had expected and a great deal more than other boys his age, and at the same time, earning their gratitude for his ‘magic hands’ and his enthusiasm. He had no idea that he had already taken the first step in solidifying relationships that would serve him very well later on in life.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
One thing that the professors at Hogwarts didn’t have any control over was the level of PDA’s – public displays of affection – that occurred between classes. They had enough to do just to prep for their next class, get a cup of coffee, take a leak, catch up with correspondence, practice a new bit of magic that they had learned, or get something to eat when the opportunity presented itself. So it was that new norms were slowly making their way through the seven class-years.

The first one was that NO meant NO and that anyone who forgot him/herself and overstepped boundaries would be punished severely. This was the one and only area in which Harley made her will known throughout the school. Crossing her, the offenders learned, was an invitation to pain… the kind of which nightmares were made. Fifteen lashes with a soaked Rattan cane on the offender’s bare ass, in the Foyer of the Great Hall. It was a pain so awful that each of the three people, two boys and one girl, who earned the punishment, would never cross Harley Ross again, and more importantly, would never, ever act without explicit consent again.

The second norm was a much happier one, or at least one that made people happy. The girls of Hogwarts, and this included Harley and Hermione, had come to the unspoken agreement that they were tired of constantly trying to keep the boys of getting flashes of their panties and that they were tired of being told that what they chose to wear was somehow shameful. This was particularly true among the first-born girls, who were used to reasonably small bikini bottoms or one-piece swimsuits that were moderately revealing. The result was that girls wore what they damn well felt like, and ignored the prissy, conservative line that demanded full concealment all of the time. They also all learned how to cast wandless Notice-Me-Not charms, so that if they were uncomfortable for any reason, the girl in question could deflect people’s attention.

The flip side of the movement in this particular norm was that the boys stopped competing with each other for who could wear the most expensive clothes and focused instead on what was most attractive to the girls. The upshot was that the boys were dressing better, but spending less, and at the same time attracting better (and healthier) attention from the girls.

The third norm that shifted was the most important one, since it changed the entire dynamic of the school. The girls’ growing confidence in themselves led a few (at first) and then a growing number to be more comfortable in experimenting with the boys, asking for what they really wanted, and exploring their needs as well as their curiosities.

Sirius Black, as Headmaster, was unable to shift the course of the school in these areas – even if he had wanted to do. He had been forced to watch the Canning of the three students, helpless to intervene. As the school’s conscience and de facto disciplinarian, Harley was a force unto herself and everyone knew it. Hermione was her back-stop: her wife, friend, ally, confidant, and defender. No one would get to Harley if Hermione was around. The students who had been canned were welcomed back into the fold, but with the clear understanding that the next time they crossed the line, they would not survive the punishment.

If was a very effective teaching environment, to no one’s surprise. Students that felt happy and safe learned more and learned faster, which pleased everyone. The H'reem that had formed around Hermione and Harley moved with confidence in the hallways. They came into the Great Hall as a force and people got out of their way.

The flip side was that the professors moved with more confidence as well. The ones who were respected stood tall, walked with purpose, and commanded instant compliance with their requests. Filius Flitwick, despite a lack of physical stature, moved with the confidence of the dueling master that he was. Rubeus Hagrid moved like the true, magical giant that he was. No one second-guessed Hagrid. Ever.

Remus Lupin, who was a quiet man by nature, stood tall. No one cared that he was a werewolf. He knew his shit and no one loved that more than Harley and Hermione. Their immediate acceptance of the man gave him credibility that he could not have otherwise carried.

Even Pomona Sprout was feared. Fucking around in her class earned you twenty-four hours as a cabbage. It wasn’t fun and no student who had experienced it ever crossed her again. Her protégé was Neville Longbottom – and that gave him standing in the school like no Longbottom (except his father, Frank) before him. It also gave him credibility with those who thought themselves to be budding potions-masters. Nothing happened in potions that didn’t in some way involve Herbology, and so everyone ended up beating a path to Neville’s semi-permanent ‘office’ in the Herbology wing at one point or another.

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**Friday, March 12, 1993 – Office of the Headmaster, Hogwarts**

Things were going well for the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. Better than he had ever expected, given his complete novelty to the position and lack of anything that even kind of resembled teaching experience. Discipline was better than any headmaster or headmistress could ever hope for, since it was all being done internally, and the overall performance of his students was off the charts. Perversely, that was also his major problem.

The students had risen to the challenge of being the very best that the world had to offer and were now doing things that were supposed to be impossible. Every student, from third-year on up, including most all of the Slytherins, had a Patronus guardian. The first-year students just didn’t have the magical resources to support such magic, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. No one blamed them for it, of course, and they were all encouraged to try the incantation, but within very strict confines, and under the watchful eye of a qualified adult.

Sirius Black’s consternation was that he was looking at an invitation for Hogwarts to send its Magic Demonstration Team to the Pan-European Open Invitational. Twenty schools would be in attendance, including Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, The Moscow Institute of Magic, The Hellenic School at Delphi, the Institute at Maremma Toscana in Italy, Hogwarts, The London School of Magic, the Polish Institute of Magic at Zimna Woda, The Northern Savonian School of Magic (Finland), the Sverdlovsk School of Magic (which Sirius had never heard of before), The Ordu Institute of Magic (Turkey), The Sighișoara School of Mythic Studies – which was an Orthodox Christian school that also taught magic, and the Sankt Andreasberg Chapel, which Sirius thought was an especially odd name for a school of Magic.  
He didn’t have much choice in whom to send. There was no way that Harley and Hermione weren’t going. He was also going to have to send Draco Malfoy, Cho Chang, The Weasley Twins, and the Head Boy and Girl. There were one or two others who were also on the list, but those were the ones he knew were on the must send list. He knew he couldn’t not go, which meant that the Deputy Headmistress would have to oversee the school while they were gone.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
The day came for the team to leave for Italy, since the event was going to take place right under the noses of the Muggles, in the Great Colosseum in Rome. Five thousand witches and wizards would occupy the building and make use of the space while their non-magical brethren wandered around outside the building, disappointed that it was temporarily closed for ‘structural renovations’.  
Harley, Hermione, and the rest had been excused from school for the entire week, since they would be performing over the weekend and doing countless interviews, etc. in the run-up to their demonstration.  
Their first demonstration, though they didn’t know it, was to break the wards that had been erected over the Colosseum. The Goblins in Rome had been paid handsomely for their extensive work and the event organizers were certain that they would prevent apparition, in or out of the stadium.  
March 16th, 1993 was clear, but cool in Rome. Spring had come early and the Croci were up and getting ready to go to flower. The Hogwarts Demonstration Team appeared in the middle of the grounds of the stadium and looked around. There was activity everywhere, as wizards and witches move to erect sufficient comfortable seating to accommodate the anticipated crowds.  
“Hey you all! Stop!”  
Hermione, Harley, Sirius and the rest turned to see who was yelling at them.  
A pudgy man was running at them, with his wand out. Hermione reached out and magically plucked it out of his hand, summoning it to herself. This startled him and he stopped and looked around.  
Finally, Harley took pity on him. “Hey, you.” she called out when he was thirty feet away. “We have your wand. Now, we’re looking for Signore Benedict. Are you him?”  
He walked towards them, cautiously, since he didn’t have his wand. They could see that he had a crown of brown, thinning hair, but that his bald-spot was winning the day and would soon be victorious over what hair he had left. It was also obvious that his belt had already lost the war to his paunch, leaving him to dress as a traditional wizard, in flowing robes that required no belt.  
“Who are you all?”  
Sirius stepped up and addressed the man. “I am Lord Sirius Black, of the House of Black and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This rabble around me is the Hogwarts Demonstration Team.”  
The man looked startled and for a moment didn’t know what to say. Eventually, he found his voice when he saw Hermione holding his wand. “I would thank you for returning my wand, first, and then I would like an explanation of how you busted our wards.”  
This set the Hogwarts Demonstration Team to laughing, which caused the man to look affronted. Finally, Hermione looked at him and said, “I am the Lady Harley Janel Ross, of the House of Ross. The young woman who took your wand is my wife, Hermione. As for your wards, well… I wouldn’t put too much stock in their reliability.”  
This caused the man to bluster, “They’re the best that money can buy!”  
Hermione laughed melodiously. “If you say so”, before she and Harley closed their eyes and disappeared for a moment, only to re-appear across the grounds. The man watched them walk the distance back to the group, hand-in-hand.  
“You were saying?” Hermione chided him gently, as they approached.  
She handed the man back his wand when she was again standing next to Sirius.  
“Are you going to introduce yourself now or should we look around for someone who can actually help us?” Sirius said, as he looked around the vast building.  
“My name is Brutus” he said.  
Hermione face-palmed for a moment. “Et Tu, Brute?” she said to the man, grinning. He had obviously heard that line before, so he pursed his lips for a moment and looked at her. “Yes, yes. I’ve heard it all before. Now, I don’t know where Signore Benedict is right now, but I will let him know that you’re here. Have you decided on what you’re going to be demonstrating?”  
Sirius nodded. “I believe so, yes. We’re still working out some of the fine points, but we’ll have it pinned in the next day or two.”  
“Very good. The person running the demonstration-team portion of the Invitational will want to see all or at least part of your demonstration before you give it.”  
“Tell him or her that we will want to do that bit off-site, so as not to spoil the surprise.”  
Brutus looked at him and nodded curtly. “I will see to it. Where are you staying?”  
“We have the top floor of the Hotel Hassler Roma. Leave messages for me, Sirius Black.”  
Brutus nodded. “Very good then. We will be in contact. In the meantime, please enjoy the city. The magical shopping district can be accessed via the statue of Minerva, at the head of the Via Appia.”  
Shopping is a magical word to young women the world over, and so the group decamped to the street, hailed a taxi, and was off for a day of shopping, food, and teen-age craziness.  
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Less than an hour later, the “Hogwarts Demonstration Team” fled back to the Hotel Hassler Roma and the relative safety of their suite of rooms. The shopping excursion had been a disaster, almost from the moment that they had entered the magical shopping district. Pictures of Harley and Hermione were everywhere. Some called Harley the “Queen of Europe” while others called her “The Next Merlin”. Pictures of Hermione were cast so that she seen adoring her wife and not as the strong, independent powerhouse that Harley knew her to be. It took almost no time at all for them to be recognized and hounded by the Paparazzi and it wasn’t until Hermione and even Draco started turning people into mice that the crowds backed off.  
Harley knew that those transfigurations were going to be ridiculously hard for anyone to undo… but she didn’t feel bad about it either, since the photographers had been particularly aggressive.  
“Well, that didn’t go well” Draco said a little caustically.

“Fucking paparazzi. Thought they were going to tear my dress!” Cho snarled. She had been behind the other four and someone had grabbed her; snarling her dress and almost disrobing her. Hermione had made short work of the man, turning him into a mouse and scaring the shit out of the people around him.

Even the Weasley twins were angry and it took a lot to move them to that point.

Harley was seething and Hermione was imagining going back into the alley, alone, and dispensing ‘justice’ as she saw fit. In her mind, it was brutish and ugly… and fun.

It was Sirius’ job to calm them down and make sure they didn’t do something rash, which might cause an international incident. Fortunately, he had just the thing: Ghirardelli Chocolate. Dark chocolate almond-bark. There was nothing else like it on Earth. It was shockingly expensive as chocolates went though: almost a Galleon per pound, which was five times more expensive than any of the other magical confectioners in the UK.

The phone rang as Sirius was passing out the chocolate and the head-boy picked it up. Nick was nominally a half-blood wizard from a well-to-do family in Wales and he had grown up in an almost entirely muggle household, so phones were run of the mill for him.

There was about a minute of conversation and then he hung up the phone. “There are a bunch of reporters downstairs who want to interview us… but I get the feeling they’re really here for our two superstars.”

Sirius grimaced at him and then said, “Figures. Who wants to go down and set them straight.” As he said it, he looked right at his Head Boy and Girl, expecting that one of the two of them would step-up and take on the challenge of speaking for the school. Neither one said a word, which lowered Sirius’ opinion of them significantly. It was Draco Malfoy who finally stood up and said, “Sir, I will do it, if you will let me.”

Sirius looked at the Malfoy Scion for a moment and then said, “Did you Sire give you any advice in dealing with the media?”

“Yes, Sir. It was impressed on me early to never shame my family or my school or my associates.”

Sirius thought about that and his opinion of the Malfoy Scion was rising by the moment. When Harley stepped up and said, “Da? Draco won’t shame us. He’s smart and I trust him.”  
Draco’s ears went pink with his embarrassment of being praised by his most powerful friend. Sirius nodded. He had expected Harley to say something similar, but maybe not quite so fulsomely.  
“Do you have dress robes, Draco?”

“Yes Sir, I do.”

“Go, get dressed then. I will do the same and then I will join you here. In ten minutes, we will go down and face the reporters. I will let you lead, unless there is a specific question to me, or something that you couldn’t possibly know.”

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Twelve minutes later, Sirius and Draco walked out of the main suite and went down the elevators to the first floor.

Both Harley and Hermione followed, invisible in every way. They wanted to make sure that nothing untoward happened. Not that they underestimated what Sirius could do. He was, after all, a magical Grim and could call down lightning from a clear, blue sky. No one who knew anything about him thought it was a good idea to challenge him. Death Eaters used to run from him, based on the reports that the two had found, and even the Dark Lord had been afraid of him.

Draco was a great student and he had picked up what was being taught like a sponge. Since learning how to image outcomes and discovering that magic was all about will-power and focus, Draco’s confidence had taken off – and so had his performance in and out of class. He just didn’t have the power to do what his Sire could do… yet.

The Grand Ballroom was kitted out with a stage, muggle microphones, pitchers of cold water, and tall stools… and it wasn’t a small crowd that waited for them. Even Sirius was momentarily paused by the number of reporters that awaited them and he quietly said as much to Draco.

Draco grinned though when he replied. “My Da always said that more was easier to handle than fewer. A few could pin you down and ask really uncomfortable questions. This rabble will be shouting questions and we can pick the ones we want to answer.”

That struck Sirius as being a really smart observation and again his opinion of Draco rose. “Your lead, Scion Malfoy.”

“My thanks, Lord Black.” Draco said as he approached the lecturne. He was turned out in his finest black dress robe, with his house-sigil prominent on his chest, and he looked very inch the scion of a great house. His eyes gleamed and his smile was easy and relaxed – a look that his father had taught him carefully, since it helped to disarm opponents.

“Buon pomeriggio. Sono Draco Malfoy, Scion d’el Casa di Malfoy. Sono studente presso la Hogwarts Scuola di stregoneria e magia. Prenderò le tue domande oggi. Sentiti libero di chiedere in italiano, francese o inglese. Mi scuso che il mio tedesco non sia ancora all'altezza.”

If anyone was surprised by Draco’s fluency in Italian, it wasn’t Hermione or Harley. They knew how hard Draco had been studying in school and how much work he had put into his language studies. The reporters, however, were floored by the ease and eloquence with which Draco spoke and they responded with cheers and applause, before launching into their questions.  
Most of the questions were easily deflected and the best of his ability, that’s what Draco did. When he couldn’t handle a question, he turned it over to the Headmaster; providing translations as necessary. It was only toward the end when a couple of the reporters started asking more pointed questions about Harley and Hermione that Draco had to put his foot down.  
“No, I am not going to talk about either the Lady Ross or her wife, and no, I will not discuss what I have seen them do.”  
The reporter wasn’t giving in easily and kept pressing the point. “Mr. Malfoy” he started. Draco cut him off.  
“That’s Scion Malfoy, sir. I am proud of my family and I am the last of the line. I expect to be addressed properly.”

The reporter looked peeved. “Fine. Scion Malfoy, why won’t you answer questions about the Ladies Ross? Both are accused of killing indiscriminately. Even the Norwegian newspapers are questioning why they were allowed to kill two people in a bar, with no questions asked.”

By this point, Draco had felt Hermione’s magic brush by him and he knew that both girls were in the room, invisible. It made him grin. The reporter was about to get the surprise of his life.

Draco watched, barely able to control his laughter, as the man’s clothes melted away, leaving him quite naked. He also saw the man’s wand float up, into the air, where it burst into flames and then floated away as so much feathery ash.

When some semblance of normalcy had been restored, Draco said aloud, “I think you’ve just been told that further questions along the previous line won’t be tolerated. Now, it’s up to you, but discretion may be the better part of valor at this point.”

The man snarled and stomped out of the room, half-covered in a hastily donated outer robe.

“Now, any other questions?”

The reporters all looked around. Some of them even took out their wands and started casting _Hominum Revelio_ … as if that was going to do them any good. The word BOO! appeared above their heads, in 1,960 pt. font, and several of the more sensitive reporters actually passed out in fear. Draco thought that was hysterically funny and it took him several long moments to collect himself as he watched the palpable fear wash through the assembled reporters.

The desire to make fun of them was really, really hard to resist, but Draco managed it. Instead he waited… and waited… until the group pushed closer together, like a herd of antelopes with lions nearby. Sirius was almost busting a gut, laughing, and finally he could take it no longer and walked out, so that he could let loose.

“Ladies and gentlemen” Draco said in perfect Italian, “I assume that all of you realize that this little demonstration is more than proof enough that there is nowhere that you can go where the Ladies Ross can’t get to you. There is no power that can protect you.”

“They… they don’t bear grudges, do they?” one reporter asked tremulously.

Draco grinned and replied in Italian. “Usually not. However, I’m not stupid enough to get on their bad sides. I give them the respect that they are due and since we are friends, they give me support and encouragement, and a fair bit of training as well. But under no circumstances would I want them mad at me. You don’t poke a sleeping dragon, ladies and gentlemen, unless you’re bigger than said dragon.”

Draco was tiring of the game and decided to invite just one more question. “Make it good” he added, still speaking in Italian.

“Did Lady Hermione really summon a dragon?”

Draco grinned. “Good question. Yes, she did. She summoned a Hungarian Horntail from somewhere in Russia and brought it to Hogwarts, using some kind of magical gateway. It was astonishing. I got to touch the dragon and to speak with him. It was amazing, overwhelming.”

That sent the reporters into a frenzy and several of them begged him to take more questions. He thanked them and then… disappeared into black, mystic light. The hysteria over that was almost deafening and Hermione and Harley, who were floating, invisible, near the ceiling, grinned, held hands, and disappeared the same way.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Once they were all back in the suite, Harley and Hermione grabbed Draco and hugged the stuffing out of him. “You were awesome. Beyond awesome, actually” Harley whispered in his ear.  
“We so owe you, Draco” Hermione whispered in his other ear as she continued to hug him.

Sirius clasped Draco on the shoulder and said, “You were great, Draco. The School owes you a debt of gratitude for representing us so well. Fifty points to Slytherin and a personal reward for special services to the school.”

This had Draco blushing hard and almost speechless. He had never, ever received fifty school points, especially not all at once!

“Thank you, Headmaster. I could not have done it without your encouragement.”

“That’s not true, Draco. You’re a natural. I’m going to tell your father that as well. He may very well have to cede the spokesperson position for your family to you in the next two years.”

“I’m proud of you, Draco. I really am. You did great.” Harley whispered to him and rubbed his back. Both her hands and her words felt wonderful and Draco was momentarily silent.

“Daphne and Tracey say you’re wonderful too” Hermione said to him quietly, as she struggled not to giggle like a mad-woman. This caused Draco to blush so furiously that he thought that he was turning into a tomato, which was an unnatural color for someone with platinum hair.

He said something that sounded suspiciously like “girls!”, which set Harley and Hermione to another laughing fit.

Draco took their laughter in good humor since, deep down, he was actually proud of the fact that his friends? Bedmates? Girlfriends? Tracey and Daphne would say nice things about him after their intimate encounter.

Turning slightly, Draco suddenly realized that Hermione’s and Harley’s hands hadn’t left his back and that they were close enough that it felt like they were inviting his touch in reply. That’s odd, he thought. He didn’t dare touch them though, since the last person who touched them in an inappropriate way was driven from the school, by Harley, unable to perform magic anymore since it had been, essentially, scared out of him.

Choosing discretion, as the better part of valor, Draco did the safe thing and put his arms around the girls’ shoulders, so that they were bunched together. Sirius looked at the three, shrugged, and then turned to the Head Boy and Girl. “I’m disappointed that neither of you stepped up to speak for the school. That shows a lack of courage that makes me re-think whether you two deserve the position any longer.”

The pair tried to defend themselves, but were largely reduced to saying, “It’s not my job”, which ticked off Sirius more than anything else could have.

“You’re both out. I’m not having cowards has the head-boy and girl. I want your badges.”

The two looked at him, shocked. The Head Boy and Girl had never both been dismissed at the same time in the history of the school.

“Harley, send their asses home, would you please?”

Harley looked at them and in an instant, they were gone. Draco, who was in physical contact with her the moment the magic happened, felt a powerful intake of magic and then a push, as if she was using a massive wash of magic to knock them over, like an ocean wave. It was a heady experience and it left him more than just a little turned on, which was immensely embarrassing.

Hermione felt him shift, as if he were suddenly uncomfortable. Looking down, she saw why and turned her head so that she could whisper to him, “Don’t be embarrassed, Draco. Harley’s magic does that to me all the time. I’m still getting used to it. Boys don’t see the reaction usually, but it’s still there. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

Rather than saying anything, he gently squeezed her shoulder, so that she knew he was acknowledging her words.

The three-some watched as Sirius summoned his Patronus and sent a message… somewhere. Not that it was any of their business, but it did fire up their curiosity.

He turned to them and said, “Well, that leaves you three, Cho, the Twins, and… we need one other for the demonstration team. Who do you want?”

Hermione thought about that for a moment and then whispered to both Harley and Draco. The three then turned and put their heads together and had a quick, intense conversation.

Draco ended up speaking for the three of them. “Sir? We’d like to have Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff, Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor, and Blaise Zabini from Slytherin… but if we can have only one, then we’d like Neville Longbottom.”

Sirius looked at them and made a motion with his hand as if to ask why. Harley looked at him. “Yes, we know that his Grandmother is a harpy and yes, we know that he was thought a near-squib. He’s not. He’s a god-damned prodigy when it comes to plants. There’s nothing he can’t do and we have some demonstrations that we can pull off only with his help.”

“And Cho?”

Hermione laughed. “Three words for you, sir.” She wanted to call him Padfoot, but he was in his Headmaster-mode and they wanted to respect that. “Chinese Fire-magic.”

Sirius looked at Cho, who had been sitting across the room, reading.

“Miss Chang? Could you come here for a moment?”

Cho looked up from her book and popped across the room. Hermione looked at her and wondered if the girl was even aware that she had done so.

“Miss Chang? My god-daughter-in-law says that you’re here because of your, and I quote “Chinese Fire-magic. Is that true? And what is it that you do?”

Hermione grinned. Cho’s control of Gubraithian Fire was preternatural. It was as if it was a living, breathing extension of her. Hermione had watched her practice on the Quidditch field and had been amazed.

“Do that thing with the five rings” She said encouragingly to the beautiful Chinese girl. Cho grinned. She had gotten the idea from watching the muggle Olympics on the television during the summer. She was still trying to figure out how to integrate the Olympic theme, but Hermione was helping her with that on the sly.

“I’m going to do a scaled-down version for you, Headmaster. It’s too big usually to do in here proper-like.”

He waved away her concern. “Whatever. Just show me a little bit of it.”

Draco had seen her practice too and was excited. He had no idea how she did what she did, but it was fucking awesome.

She took off her top, leaving her with just a silk Chemise. It was better, apparently, to be bare-armed while working with the flames. Sirius watched, mesmerized, as a stream of bright yellow fire came pouring out of her index finger on her right hand. He watched as it spiraled up, into the air, and then down her arm, all the way to her elbow, where it started coiling like rope. She kept pouring it on, letting the fire’s glow illuminate her whole body. It was both eerie and erotic. Soon, she started sending loops of it out, into the air, where circles of it hovered; spinning and glowing. When she had thirteen circles of fire, she brought one to herself, so that it surrounded her and cast her whole body in dancing, yellow light. The other twelve, she set around her, in the air. Then she started sending Runes to each one, to glow on their own in the middle of each circle. It was at that moment that Sirius had some inkling of what she was doing.

“Enough. I think I see where you’re going. If you do what I think you’re going to do, it will never be forgotten, in the whole history of magic.”

With a wave, Cho absorbed all of the fire into her body and then nodded to the Headmaster.

“That was brilliant, Ms. Chang. I think we can expect amazing things from you your whole life.”

“Thank you, Headmaster. I look forward to presenting all of it.”

“Next up… George and Fred Weasley. Gentlemen?”

The twins, who had been in one corner of the main suite’s giant ante-room, walked over to where Sirius, Harley, Draco, and Hermione were all sitting. Both nodded. “Sir.”

“Gentlemen. I know your parents, of course, but I don’t know the rest of your family that well. Your sister, Ginny, is a fire-ball. Percy seems… well, he’ll do well as a bureaucrat.” George and Fred said nothing in reply to the Headmaster’s estimation of the rest of their family. Ginny was, in fact, a fire-ball, just as it was true that Percy was anally-retentive enough to be a bureaucrat.

“What are you going to do as your part of the demonstration?”  
“Well”

“We thought”

“That we’d show everyone”

“Some illusions”

“We’ve been working on.” Sirius looked at them, not terribly pleased by their back-and-forth banter and the twins got the message.

“Sorry about that, Headmaster. We do it naturally and we weren’t trying to annoy you.”

Fred continued, “We’re going to be doing some really big illusions, so we’re going to need the whole Colosseum to make them work.”

“Can you show us even a taste of what you’re going to be doing?”

“We can. We hope that you will not be annoyed by what we’ve figured out. We’re told that it can mess with people’s heads a little bit.”

“All the better for us to see it now, to see if you two should go on at all.”

"The twins walked to the center of the room, took out their wands, and started casting. Draco could feel Hermione and Harley’s magic shift, almost in unison, as the twins’ magic began washing over the room. In a moment, Draco was cold. Very, very cold. He was holding some kind of weapon and he was standing in a trench, looking out over a long valley. Massive creatures, steel creatures, thirty meters high, were walking at him. All around him, men and women were bracing their weapons, getting ready to fire. He could hear voices in his head as he looked out, all screaming to get ready and not to fire until the order was given. The ground shook at the horrible, walking beasts started firing. People were screaming… dying all around him. Then the scene shifted. Then he was in some kind of craft. In space. All around him, other craft swarmed. A voice came rang in his ear, “All wings report in.”

“Red ten standing by."

"Red seven, standing by."

"Red three standing by."

"Red six standing by."

"Red nine standing by."

Draco heard himself saying, ‘Red five standing by’.”

A strong male voice chimed in, “All wings. Accelerate to attack-speed. Lock S-foils in Attack position. Bring deflectors on double-front. We’re passing through the magnetic field.”

Draco could feel himself in the seat of the craft, flicking the switches and getting ready for combat. He looked around and could see the massive moon ahead of them. That was the target, he somehow knew. That’s what they were going to attack, and he had to fly his best to avoid getting killed. Space loomed large all around him. The massive planet directly behind them was bigger than anything he had ever seen or even ever imagined in his whole life. The illusion suddenly stopped and Draco found himself again in the Headmaster’s suite, but now profoundly disappointed. He was looking forward to finding out what happened next and his hands were sweaty from gearing up for the attack he knew he’d be launching.

Sirius looked at the twins. “How the effing Hell did you do that?”

The tall, lanky, red-headed twins laughed and then straightened up. “It wasn’t easy, Sir. We’ve been working on that since your god-daughter taught us how to cast proper illusions.”

“That’s not what I meant. How did you get it to be so personal?”

Fred looked at George and they seemed to contemplate the question for a long moment. “Sir.. please do not tell anyone about this, ok?”

“Well, tell me what you’ve done and we can talk about that, ok?”

Fred looked at George and, after another moments’ contemplation, George said, “We’ve modified the Confundus Charm and weaved into it several bits of the magic that makes extracting memories possible, for use in a Pensieve. So we’re creating what the Muggles would call a ‘hypnotic suggestion’.”

“So you’re actually creating a memory, from scratch, and then letting it play out through the Illusion you’re casting? But each person sees him or herself in the illusion?”

Fred nodded. Sirius looked flabbergasted. Even Harley and Hermione were beyond amazed. He said to them, with awe in his voice, “You understand, right, that both of you are already well beyond Mastery-level in Charms? That there really isn’t another level that we can give you, but if we could, you’re get that too?”

The Weasley Twins had the good sense to actually blush at the praise. Harley winked at them and then said, “That was…. Awesome.”

From a girl would could destroy mountains and bring down the wrath of God, Fred and George thought that was pretty cool.

“Hermione, love? Would you go get Neville? Tell him dress clothes and then bring him here.”

Hermione nodded and disappeared. Harley never liked it when Hermione wasn’t by her side, but she was safe at Hogwarts. At least she better be, Harley thought to herself. She knew that someone in Slytherin was still gunning for them and that they were going to have to resolve that situation at some point. Fortunately, Hermione was going straight to the Gryffindor common room and should be safe… but somehow the cold pit in her stomach wouldn’t leave her alone. “Da? I’ll be back” she said and disappeared.

Harley re-appeared in the third-year common room.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**March 16th - Hogwarts**

The common-room was quiet and Harley didn’t know where to start, so she reached out and did something that she had never tried before: “Hogwarts! Hear me! I need my wife. Tell me where she is? Please?”

Harley closed her eyes and felt an immense, old presence enter her mind. She could feel the wards and every life in the school. Her insides melted with happiness as she felt Hermione’s presence, bright as a star, in one of the greenhouses.

“Thank you, Hogwarts.”

“You’re welcome, daughter.” Came a feeling… not really a voice… that was old, but extraordinary.

Harley closed her eyes and disappeared.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

“You’ve got to get your things and come with me. The Headmaster’s waiting for you.” Hermione was saying to the young man as he moved about the greenhouse, trimming, cleaning, watering.  
Neville looked at her, not really believing what he was hearing. “What do you mean he’s waiting for me?”

“He’s in Rome, with the rest of the team. You’ve been asked for, because of your plant-thingys.”

“What do you mean, my plant things?”

Hermione was growing frustrated. She didn’t know how to express what she meant. She sighed with relief when she felt Harley’s magic in the greenhouse. Harley was much better at these kinds of things.

“Love? Tell Neville why the Headmaster wants him.”

Harley let herself be seen, unfazed by the fact that her magic was becoming more and more natural and instinctive. “Neville, the Headmaster wants you on the team because we told him that we want you. After you did that blossom demonstration, with all of the different trees along the edge of the Forbidden forest, I knew that you’d be great on the team. You do plants instinctively, like Hermione and I do things.”

Neville looked at them with a great hesitancy. Yes, he had learned things that he had never expected and yes, his grandmother was amazed at what he had learned his first year, but that didn’t mean he was some kind of prodigy, did it?  
“Neville! Are you Shrubber?”

Grinning, Neville looked at Harley and could see the bouncing laughter in her eyes. “Yes! I am Neville, the Shrubber!”

His love of all thing Monty Python was well known and Harley guessed that playing on that would get him to cooperate. “Good. Come, Neville-the-Shrubber. There are Shrubs to be made!"

“I fart in your general direction!” Harley replied, turning around and pointing her bottom at him.

Hermione grinned and said, “We are the knights who say Ni!”

Harley grinned. Monty Python had always been humor that was generally beyond her understanding, but there were some things that were just societal corner-stones. “Let’s go, love. We’ve a lot to do and Mr. Shrubber here needs to get his bags together.”

Harley nodded. She hated having her humor thwarted, but she understood Hermione’s message. “Meet us in the 3rd year common room, Neville.”

The boy nodded and then disappeared. Harley and Hermione followed suit, leaving the greenhouse suddenly very quiet.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Despite the fact that the Office of the Prime Minister of the UK had promised that the ladies Ross would be left alone, there was an almost irresistible urge to keep an eye on them, in whichever way was possible. When prime, ongoing targets for observation and monitoring up and disappear, it sets off alarm bells in whatever organizations have set the monitoring. In this case, it was MI-5 ¾ and its partners around the world. In this case, the D-Puo (Disappearance, Person Under Observation) alert went out across the globe. Until it got to Italy, where it was met by a routine acknowledgement and positive response. That was, in turn, sent back to the PM’s office, along with a note that said, in effect, WTF?. That response left the Brits with a conundrum: Tell the Italians just what the girls have been doing or let them find out for themselves. In the end, it was decided that the Italians would get to find out for themselves, since their government was the most unstable of any government in Europe: Five prime ministers in seven years and eight within the 10 years (1983 – 93). It wasn’t the UK’s responsibility to tell the Italians what they should and should not do on their own soil. It was Major’s personal feeling that if the situation went squirrelly, at least it was happening outside of his responsibility and he couldn’t be blamed by the voting public of the UK, since they’d know nothing about what was going on.  
The PM could not have known that the IWC was taking a much more active roll as it regarding the two tween-aged powerhouses. A War Mage and a dozen seasoned hit-wizards had been dispatched from the IWC headquarters in Brugge, Belgium to Italy to be ‘on hand’ in case things went pear-shaped. Pushba Kumar Singh was a Sikh, and a former member of the Indian Secret Service – but he was also the most renowned war mage since the famous Japanese war-mage, Hiro Ito. It was expected that he could keep a lid on things at the Pan European Invitational, by his presence alone.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>** ****

****March 17th, 1993 – Colosseum of Rome** **

**Pushpa Kumar Singh and his attendant hit-wizards entered the historical, and often blood-soaked grounds of the enormous landmark. They were all kited out with their credentials and they moved with a purpose. Pushpa wasn’t a man to waste time or energy.**

**They were met, about half-way across the grounds, by Signore Benedict di Palma. A man of imposing stature at 6’5”, Benedict moved with purpose and grace, and with a kind word for everyone that he met.**

**“Ambassador!” Benedict gushed.**

**“Benedict!” also enthused as he took the man’s hand. “How are you?”**

**“Stressed, Pushpa. Stressed. All of the schools aren’t here yet and now I’m to understand that not one, but two Arch-mages have arrived from England?”**

**“Yes, and that’s what I’m here to talk about. I’ve been sent by the High Warlock of the IWC to make sure that no one provokes the two young woman and to try to contain them if someone does.”**

**“Are they really that bad, Pushpa?”**

**The War-Mage looked at his lifetime friend and said, “You and I need to talk about this at length, but the answer is yes, they’re that dangerous.”  
Benedict grimaced. “Ok. Fuck. Let’s go up to my suite and we can talk there. I’ve got things pretty much under control down here, provided that the other effing schools show up today.”**

****< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>** **

****Ten minutes later….** **

**“Sit, sit. I’ve ordered tea, but my elf didn’t really understand that he had to go and find the good stuff and not the usual swill that everyone drinks around here.”**

**Pushpa waived it off and then said, “So, tell me what you know about our coming visitors and I’ll fill in the rest.”**

**Benedict shrugged. “What I know is what everyone knows, more or less. They’re incredibly dangerous. Both have killed before. They can come and go through any ward that you might set, and they don’t tolerate stupid very well.”**

**Pushpa thought about what Benedict had said and how he could add to it or correct it if necessary. Finally he said, “You’ve got the basics, but let me give you some detail.” He sipped his tea and then said, “What’s your highest score on Merlin’s Orb?”**

**Benedict winced. It was not something he liked talking about. After some hesitancy, he said, “750”.**

**Pushpa looked at him sympathetically. Merlin’s Orb was one way that men measured themselves in the magical world. You really had to be over 1000 to be worth anything on the dating market, so Pushpa understood why Benedict was still single after 55 years. He, himself, was at about 1750.**

****

**“These two – Harley and Hermione Ross – are 2800 and 2700 respectively.”**

**Benedict sucked in a breath. That meant that 2800, Harley Ross was at least _fifty-eight thousand_ times more powerful than he was, since the scale was more or less exponential.**

**“You can see why the IWC is concerned then, can’t you?”**

**Benedict didn’t know what to make of the girls’ power. He had never even heard of anyone over 2000, except for Albus Dumbledore. “What are you going to do if someone sets them off?” Benedict asked quietly.**

**“Try to talk them down, as best we’re able. I’m not going to lose people to no purpose. That would be stupidly wasteful.”**

**Benedict wasn’t done though. “What’s this I hear about them playing catch with meteors? Rumor has it that she dropped one on a muggle military base it and it destroyed the entire base.”  
  
“That’s not what happened, but I can understand why you might have heard that.” Like everyone else, Benedict was greedy for information, so Pushpa gave him the close-to-unvarnished truth of what had transpired. It left the man close to speechless. When he found his voice, he asked, “I can’t imagine the muggle PM being that stupid. It’s like inviting a dragon into the Congresso dei Maghi.”  
  
“Well, you have to understand that when Harley called out, and it could only have been her, everyone in muggle England wanted to know who Hermione was. Even in Belgium, there was a great deal of conversation about it. It wasn’t until it got out through the papers that people began to understand what had happened. The PM was insistent on meeting the two of them and that’s what led to the ‘demonstration’.”**

**Benedict wasn’t about to admit to the man that when he heard Harley’s call, he fell to his knees and cried, because it had brought to mind a girl whom he had loved when he was a young man, who had left him for another wizard. He also knew he wasn’t alone. There were a great many older wizards who had been similarly affected by Harley’s plaintive call.**

**Benedict decided that taking the conversation back to its original track was the best bet, so he asked the other obvious question: “How did you get wind of the fact that the girls would be here?”**

**Pushpa was an accomplished War-Mage, but he was also an accomplished and courageous spy. Schooling his features, he said “It made sense. It was too big a venue for them not to be here. Hogwarts is too old and too well known for them not to send their best and frankly, how could they not send the two girls? Who would put on a better demonstration than either or both of them?”  
“Any idea what they might do?” Benedict asked hesitantly.**

**“No idea, but it’s going to be spectacular, whatever it is.”**

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	5. Dawn's New Light - Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 5  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com**

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**From Chapter Four….**  


“Well, you have to understand that when Harley called out, and it could only have been her, everyone in muggle England wanted to know who Hermione was. Even in Belgium, there was a great deal of conversation about it. It wasn’t until it got out through the papers that people began to understand what had happened. The PM was insistent on meeting the two of them and that’s what led to the ‘demonstration’.” Benedict wasn’t about to admit to the man that when he heard Harley’s call, he fell to his knees and cried, because it had brought to mind a girl whom he had loved when he was a young man, who had left him for another wizard. He also knew he wasn’t alone. There were a great many older wizards who had been similarly affected by Harley’s plaintive call. Benedict decided that taking the conversation back to its original track was the best bet, so he asked the other obvious question: “How did you get wind of the fact that the girls would be here?” Pushpa was an accomplished War-Mage, but he was also an accomplished and courageous spy. Schooling his features, he said “It made sense. It was too big a venue for them not to be here. Hogwarts is too old and too well known for them not to send their best and frankly, how could they not send the two girls? Who would put on a better demonstration than either or both of them?” “Any idea what they might do?” Benedict asked hesitantly. “No idea, but it’s going to be spectacular, whatever it is.” 

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**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry – March 17th – early evening**  


Jane Court was grateful that she had been left behind during the European International Invitational, because it afforded her a chance to really get to know Hogwarts and ask questions without Sirius looking over her shoulder. Not that he was a bad headmaster or that she minded his company, but rather because she had a chance to ask questions, of the house-elves, the ghosts, and the paintings that she might not have asked if Sirius was around. Some of the questions, admittedly, has to do with Sirius directly and others had to do with the school, since Sirius seemed to have a preternatural knowledge of the place. She wondered, for instance, why he knew of five different entrances into the girls’ 5th,6th, and 7th-year locker-rooms that weren’t known to anyone else? And how was it that he could always tell if there had been foul-play in a room? What was it about the man that he wasn’t saying?  
As she wandered the corridors, disillusioned, she overheard a multitude of conversations and saw a good many things that she supposed students would not have wanted her to see. Most things did not shock her. She was too jaded for that and had been to too many schools and too many places to be surprised by much.  
A few things, though, did genuinely surprise her. One was the fact that the North tower was a great place from which to learn how to free-fall with your broom. Students would hurl themselves off the edge of the tower and fall almost eight hundred feet before their brooms kicked in and the students went zooming off, over the edge of the ravine and down along the river, adding another three hundred plus feet of free-fall to what looked to be an already death-defying stunt. Even the first-year students were doing it with ease and, she had to admit, a great deal of exuberance and daring-do. The flying lessons they had all received from Harley seemed to be paying off. She knew that at best, she was a mediocre flyer and would never have ever dared to do what her students seemed to be doing with both laughter and skill.  
Another thing that she discovered was that the team of adopted elves that owed allegiance to Houses Ross and Dagworth had more than doubled. One hundred and four of the elves at Hogwarts were sworn to the service of the two girls, constituting a magical army that equaled or surpassed in strength and ability all of the Aurors currently serving the UK-DMLE. She knew, because covert intelligence-gathering was in her blood, that the elves gave the two girls an unrivaled power, through information-gathering and the ability to get things done covertly. She had no idea that she was off by more than half and that the elvish army that the girls had created/adopted was the single largest on Earth.  
She had to fight against the urge to go to her old boss and tell him about what she had discovered, but realized that she couldn’t say anything or communicate the facts to anyone who didn’t already know, since it would violate her oath as Deputy Headmistress.  
The last thing she learned, as she moved about the castle surreptitiously, was that the lessons that Harley and Hermione had taught, through the public, brutal, humiliating canings of the three students in the front foyer of the school, had caught on. Students, most especially the boys, were being exceedingly careful about not touching girls without explicit permission. Not even brushing past them in the hallways. No touching without permission seemed to mean just that.  
The girls, for their parts, had taken it to heart that it wasn’t fair to tease the boys and that if they wanted personal, physical attention, that they should have the courage to actually say so and be pro-active about it. That meant being open and honest about it and forthrightly saying that they want certain kinds of attention (or not). It also had the interesting effect of making the younger girls dress more conservatively, rather than less so, in order to not give off mixed messages.  
The more conservative parents were both interested and pleased by this development, despite not really understanding why it had occurred. Jane thought that it was perverse that the parents were worried more about how students were dressing than they were about what they were learning.  
The issue of ritual magic, covens, and circles hadn’t even been touched yet, though she was pretty sure that Sirius had thoughts in that direction, and those things were an important part of traditional magical learning at Hogwarts – even if they hadn’t been addressed four decades.  
As she ghosted down the second-floor corridor, towards the walled-off west wing, she thought about the Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times.” Certainly having the only two female Arch-magi ever discovered in the UK or anywhere in Europe counted as ‘interesting times’.  
The Deputy Headmistress wasn’t even paying attention when she came across something that she prayed that she would never see again: A body, half-way materialized out of the rock wall that they had constructed to hold back/trap the massive Basilisk that they had every reason to suspect was coming up through a drainpipe, somewhere on the other side of the wall.  
At first, Jane didn’t understand what she was looking at, but then she saw it from another angle and realized that it was half of the body of a young girl, holding a diary, trapped by the rock… and quite obviously dead.  
The little girl in her wanted to scream… to yell for an adult to come and help her; to tell her what to do, but then she realized that she was the adult in the situation and she had to figure it out for herself.  
The first thing she did was send a Patronus message to her former boss. He’d know what to do and how best to help. Then she sent one to the Headmaster, and finally, one to the head of the DMLE. The dead bodies of young people were under her jurisdiction: She’d get the autopsy done and figure out time of death, etc. Now all she had to do was wait.  
****

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**March 18th – early morning – Hogwarts**  


Jane had taken the precaution of magically walling off the second-floor corridor (west) so that no student would wander in and see the grizzly image of a girl, half-emergent from a wall. The look of horror that was permanently etched on the girls’ face as she realized, perhaps in that very last second, that she wasn’t going to make it through the wall and that it was going to be the place where she would die. The image had shaken her to her core. As she walked away from the scene, she had started crying… and not just soft tears, but jagged tears… the ones that come when your worst fears are realized or you stare into the dead eyes of someone whom you had loved over a lifetime, as you draw them closed for the very last time.  
She had always known that death was a thing and that it eventually came for us all, but to see it in the face of a young girl, especially one who was young enough to be her daughter, tore her up in ways that she hadn’t expected. Sirius hadn’t said anything about what being in a school would be like, but she suspected that he really hadn’t understood it himself. Being a student was one perspective, but being a teacher/adult was entirely different and, she thought, much harder. Happier on one hand, but much more emotional on the other.  
It hadn’t taken long for people to start showing up. The first on-hand was Poppy Pomfrey, which was expected, since she was closest. The next person to show was Amelia Bones, since any death of a magical child was her concern. The third person to show was the Headmaster himself, though in reality, he appeared about the same time as Amelia; even though he was coming from a much greater distance. Standing next to him was the Lady Ross, who had (apparently) provided the transportation across the vast distance.  
“Love you, Da. Send me a message when you’re ready to come back.”  
Sirius gave her a squeeze and then watched her disappear into inky blackness.  
Jane shook her head and said, “I hate it when she does that. She’s laughing at us the whole time, since she knows we can’t do it.”  
Sirius grinned. “Don’t be a sourpuss, Jane. She’s not going to teach you the trick and that’s that. You’re just going to have to live with the fact that she can do things you can’t. I’ve adjusted to it. You need to as well.”  
“It doesn’t help our cause or our security, Headmaster, to have her popping about without so much as a by-your-leave.”  
Sirius turned around and saw Amelia Bones approaching. “Good morning to you too, Amelia. And don’t be a sourpuss either.”  
Amelia glared at him. She resented the fact that Harley Ross could do things she couldn’t and she hated the fact that she had been rebuffed every time she had asked. She also hated the fact that there was no enticement she could offer the girl that would get her to cooperate. And it was all the more infuriating that the Lady Ross knew that there was nothing that Amelia could offer her, because it served as a source of amusement to the young girl and gave her something to hold over the head of the DMLE.  
Just the knowledge that there was literally nothing that Amelia wouldn’t sacrifice to be able to do some of the things that Harley could do gave the girl endless laughter and schadenfreude.  
That her niece, Susan Bones, could pop about like Harley did made Amelia want to scream… and that too was a source of endless amusement to the parties involved. Even Susan got off on the fact that she could do things that made her aunt furious with envy.  
Amelia was at the school only under protest, since she had been chased out of it repeatedly by the Ladies Ross, and at sword-point no less. But her duty compelled her to come and see what had happened to the youngest daughter of Lord Bulstrode.  
By the time that the group had gotten to the 2nd floor-west wing, they had been joined by Poppy Pomfrey and Remus Lupin, who was teaching DADA. It made sense that he would be present, since kids didn’t usually die of natural causes inside a school of magic.  
It was a one-minute walk to the hastily-constructed/transfigured wall. When Jane dispelled the magic that hid the grizzly scene from view, both Sirius and Remus had to turn away, if for no other reason than to avoid throwing up in shock and horror or breaking down in tears at the loss of such a young girl. Even Amelia was affected, though she didn’t show it. She had seen things that were worse… not by much, perhaps, but worse.  
“What’s this?” she asked, pointing to the old, leather diary that was in the girls’ dead, extended hand.  
“Don’t know, but I can feel the evil of it from here and so I didn’t touch it.”  
Remus took his Titanium knife (because silver was just really bad for werewolves to touch or carry) and eased the book out of the girl’s hand. Lowering it to the ground, he looked at the cover. “T.M. Riddle”  
Sirius knew immediately what it was. He had been pulled out of a classroom by none other than Lucius Malfoy himself and told of this book.  
“It’s a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul. Don’t touch it.”  
Amelia looked at him in horror. “You sure?”  
“Yes, very sure Amelia. Lucius Malfoy had possession of this book until recently, when he sold it to Borgin and Burke’s. He was hoping never, ever to see it again. The Dark Lord gave it to him for safe-keeping, so I am very, very sure that this is a piece of that bastard’s soul.”  
That was all that she needed to hear. Taking out her wand, she pointed at the diary. “Avada Kedavra!”  
The book screamed… and then lay still.  
Sirius grabbed her by the front of her blouse, whipped her around, and slammed her against the wall, so that he was looking at her, eye to eye. “Amelia, excuse me, but just what the fuck were you thinking just now? Using the Killing Curse in a school? Are you for real?”  
Amelia looked at him and then at the ground. She immediately recognized that she had been foolishly reckless in using one of the forbidden curses in the UK’s most renowned school of magic.  
Shaking his head, he said “It’s no fucking wonder that my God-daughter drove you at out sword-point. You’re impulsive and dangerous.”  
Amelia started to retort, but Jane glared at her, as if daring her to say another fucking word.  
Disgusted, Sirius poked the book with the tip of his shoe and then did a cursory probe of it with his magic. “It’s clean. The dark bastard’s soul-piece is gone.”  
“That’s how many then?”  
Sirius looked at her, still pissed off.  
“What? Did you think I wouldn’t know that the bastard had split his soul multiple times? I saw the memory that Poppy sent me and so did Croaker. We knew immediately what had happened. Then we told Ragnok and he confirmed that there was one in a vault belonging to your cousin, Bellatrix. That was seized and destroyed. At nearly the same time, one of my Aurors found one here at the Castle, in the Room of Lost Things. It was the Tiara belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw. That was cleansed and turned over to Croaker’s people.”  
“So…. One in Harley, one in the book, one that Bellatrix had, and the Tiara? That’s four. And the one that escaped when Harley killed Quirrell… so that’s five. Two more makes seven. And… I think I know where one of them may be.”  
Amelia, Jane, and Remus looked at him, all wanting to know what he might have to say. “In my parent’s house in London. Arcturus, my older brother, was a Death Eater, but he became disaffected. I think he might have stolen one from the Dark Lord and that’s what got him killed.”  
“Get it. The sooner it’s destroyed, the safer we can all sleep. It will leave… two more? Maybe three? I’m not convinced that the piece in my God-daughter’s forehead was a real, genuine Horcrux.”  
Poppy looked at him, shocked. Sirius looked at her and then said, as gently as he could, given how mad he was at Amelia’s insane action. “Poppy, I don’t think that Tom Riddle really had any time or preparation to make another full-blown Horcrux the night that he attacked James and Lily. I think, rather, that when the killing curse rebounded from Harley, that a piece of Riddle’s soul broke loose and sought the only life in the room… hers. Riddle’s soul had to have been already so unstable that breaking off another piece was actually more likely than not.”  
“Are you saying that there are three more pieces out there, somewhere?”  
“Yes, and it occurs to me that that gives us a huge advantage. Eight is an inherently unstable number, magically. If Riddle accidentally created eight Horcruxes instead of the seven he was attempting, then he’s totally fucked. If we destroy the one that I think is at my parents’ house, that will leave us two to deal with. One’s the apparition that’s floating around and another is… somewhere. He’ll keep that one very, very close. Maybe in a crystal of some kind or something with a strong affinity for enchantment. Something made of Mithril or Ruby.. or… I don’t know, but it’s going to be something that has personal significance to him.”  
Jane looked at him and then at the group. “He’s using Founders’ objects. The Tiara, the thing the Goblins found, whatever that was, his diary… and whatever the object is that’s at your parents’ place, Headmaster.”  
Sirius thought about that. So did Amelia. Remus Lupin looked lost in thought as well. “Let’s re-convene this conversation in a weeks’ time. I will go to my parents’ house this afternoon and search it. I’m expected back in Italy, but this is more important, for obvious reasons. I will send my God-daughter a Patronus and let her know. In the meantime, we’ve got to get this poor girl out of the rock, so that she can be buried properly.”  
Poppy Pomfrey looked at the group. “Let me do that. You all don’t want to be here for it thought. It’s not going to be pretty and it will be bad enough that I have to do it. The rest of you don’t need to see it. I’ll make sure that she’s honored properly and that her parents are able to come and claim the body, so that she can be taken to her family’s cemetery.”  
Sirius pulled her aside and gave her a hug. “Thank you, Poppy. I will note this in your jacket and let the papers know that you give her the respect in death that she didn’t get, maybe, in life.”  
The Mediwitch nodded and then said, “Let me get on with it. The rest of you… make sure there are no students in this wing for the next two hours.”  
Sirius looked at her. “I’ll see to it immediately.”  
****

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**March 18th - 12 Grimmauld Place, Kensington, London, UK – just after 1:30 pm.**  


“You don’t have to do this, Remus. I don’t know what we’re going to find inside, but my parents were right bastards and God knows what’s inhabited the house, since no one’s been living in it. There may be Bogarts around every corner and Cornish Pixies in… well, practically everything.”  
Remus laughed darkly, making Sirius look at him sideways. “What are you laughing about?”  
“Didn’t you know? My…furry little problem makes me completely immune to Doxie-venom and Cornish Pixies and it makes my blood totally toxic to the little bastards. They bite me… they die. It’s awesome, really. And since I heal so quickly, I don’t even really notice their bites.”  
“Lucky bastard. I didn’t know that about Weres. I wish it were true about Grims!”  
“You have other gifts and don’t tell me you don’t. I’ve seen you pull lightning from a clear sky. Not that that isn’t frightening as Hell.”  
It was Sirius’ turn to laugh darkly. “Yea… hehehehe. I caught more than a few Death Eaters unawares. Not that they ever got far enough to tell the dork lard.”  
Remus stopped and started laughing so hard that he almost spit out his teeth. “The what?”  
“Oh… The Dork Lard. You never heard that name before? Harley came up with it.”  
Remus was leaning against a fence post, trying to collect himself. “That’s fucking funny. I love it.”  
“I almost pissed myself I laughed so hard the afternoon Harley first said it in front of me. She caught me totally off-guard.”  
“She’s a pisser. I’ve never seen anyone wield power the way she does. It’s so casual. She does things without thinking about them! It’s as if she’s no longer using specific incantations, but rather just figuring out what she wants her magic to do and then just making it happen.”  
Sirius looked at him and then put a hand on his friends’ shoulder. “Don’t ever make the mistake of touching her while she’s wielding magic. The rush is so intense… it can be embarrassing.”  
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”  
Sirius nodded. “All I can tell you is that feeling her wield magic is a rush. And I won’t pre-judge for you what kind of rush it might be.”  
Remus got the point. “I hear you. Don’t touch them. Got it.”  
“And whatever you do… don’t get them mad at you. The two of them can kill without a word. No incantation, nothing. Just… done.”  
Not even the dork lard could do that and it made Remus suck in a breath. “His followers don’t know that, do they?”  
“The ones that do are dead, but actually… they have Lucius Malfoy wrapped around their little fingers. They saved Draco Malfoy’s life… well, that’s not exactly true. He had been cursed with the Cruciatus curse by a couple of 7th year students, who are dead now, just so you know, and they got to the Malfoys and brought them to the Castle to see their son. They also claimed right of revenge on Draco’s behalf and castrated the bastards who cursed him.”  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Remus said, incredulous of the story.  
“No, actually, I’m not. Harley found the two seventh-year students and castrated them. She used her light-sword… and oh my God are you going to shit yourself when you see it. It will cut through anything and I do mean anything. Stone, steel, people, whatever. Harley’s step-mother based it off, if you can believe it, the Lumos spell. Said it took her two hours to create. She, Harley, Hermione, Susan and Amelia Bones are the only ones who know how to do it. She won’t teach anyone else. Said it’s just way too fucking terrifying for anyone else to learn and she doesn’t want to see it used against our people.”  
Remus stared at him, unbelieving of what he was hearing. “She won’t even teach you?”  
“No, and I can’t make her. I re-swore the Godfather oath to her at Christmas and there’s nothing in it that says I can force her to teach me the spell.”  
Remus grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him. “And you’re alright with that?”  
Sirius went completely stone-cold. “Remus… leave off it! I love Harley and I have no problem with her not teaching me the spell. Frankly, it makes her just that much more terrifying. She, Hermione, and Susan are the only students who know the spell. Anyone who sees one of their swords light up instantly knows that someone’s in trouble and no one wants any part of that. She can cut off your hand with not even the barest flick of her wand and there’s nothing you can do about it!”  
Remus stepped back and looked at him; his eyes boring into his best friend. “What do you mean you re-swore the God-father oath to her?”  
The question sank into Sirius and he stopped and looked at the slightly older man. “Oh my God. That’s right. I never told you.”  
“Never told me what?”  
“Remus…. How much were you following things here in the magical world when you were away?”  
Remus thought about that. It was true that he really hadn’t been following things at all when he was in France; living and working as a Muggle. “Not much. I almost never saw the Daily Prophet and when I did, it was horribly out of date or wasn’t complete. Most of the time, I saw the Quidditch stats and that was all.”  
“Then you don’t know. Oh my God Remus. I’m so sorry!”  
“Sorry for what? What could you possibly have to be sorry about?”  
“Harley Ross… is Harry Potter. James and Lily’s son! He’s a Metamorph who chose to be a girl when he was three.”  
Remus’ chin started to tremble and his eyes went wet almost immediately. Sliding down a wall that was convenient, he started to cry.  
Sirius fell to his knees and hugged his friend. “I’m so sorry! I thought you knew. Isabelle Ross, my intended, is her adoptive mother. Harry survived the night that Voldemort attacked and Minerva McGonagall spirited him away from the fucking muggles, at whose doorstep Albus had placed him.”  
Remus looked at him, his eyes and cheeks wet with tears, and said, “I wondered about the green eyes… but the scar?”  
“You’ll love this. The first day of class, in the Fall, Harley shook hands with Quirinius Quirrell. Quirrell was hosting, unbenounced to Albus, Voldemort’s spirit. The Dork Lard had possessed him while Quirinius was in somewhere in Albania, the summer before Harley started at Hogwarts. Anyway – Lily’s love and protection was still with her and her very touch caused Quirinius to fall to dust and Voldemort’s spirit to flee. Unfortunately for the Dork Lard, his spirit flew right through Harley… who was inadvertently hosting a piece of the Dork Lard’s soul. That soul-piece latched onto the greater host and left Harley. What Moldie-mort didn’t know – what none of us knew - was that the spirit-piece in Harley had been suppressing Harley’s magic for years.  
Once it left her, she started to grow in power in ways that we still can’t really understand. She and Hermione are able to do things now that no other witch or wizard in the history of magic have been able to do.”  
Leaning back against the stone wall near the gate to the house, Remus said, “I had wondered what had caused there to be two arch-magi. It’s unheard-of and frankly, just so astonishing that I’m still processing how to teach them.”  
Sirius stood up and pulled his best friend up, to his feet. “Yea… you and everyone else. Now you understand why no one wants to piss them off. Harley and Hermione are law unto themselves. As First of the Twenty-Eight, Harley is insulated from a great number of laws and norms. That affects everything that happens at Hogwarts.”  
“No doubt. I wondered just how it was that those three were caned in the Foyer, in front of everyone. Surely, the Board of Governors weren’t onboard with that?”  
“Oh yes they were. With Lucius Malfoy, Augusta Longbottom, and Lord Greengrass all in Harley’s corner? Harley and Hermione are the law in the school. The students don’t come to me or the house-heads. No, they go to the H’reem.”  
“H’Reem?”  
“Yea… that’s what Harley and Hermione’s posse have called themselves. They’re the girls who form the cadre of followers and protectors for the two. Mostly third, fourth, and fifth-year students who sit with, eat with, study with, and learn from the two girls. If something happens that’s bad… if someone gets out of line or does something that hurts another student, the H’reem bring it to Harley or Hermione. Occasionally, one of the two, or both, take up meting out punishment themselves. Otherwise, it’s dealt with quickly and quietly by the H’reem. You do not want to draw Harley or Hermione’s ire. For instance, one student touched Hermione inappropriately when she was in the Library. Harley found him and literally scared the magic out of him. She used her magical aura to terrify him in such a way that his magic retreated to a point beyond which it retrievable.”  
Remus whistled softly. “Christ”.  
“Yea. That was my reaction. I’d never heard of anyone doing any such thing, but I have to figure that the boy’s magic was somewhat fragile already and Harley used her huge magical reserves to just completely overwhelm him. She never physically laid even so much as a finger on him… but she didn’t need to.”  
“I was wondering why the wolf in me gets so very, very quiet around her. Now I know. She must not see me as much of a threat.”  
“Honestly? She doesn’t see anyone as much of a threat. She was showing me some of her most lethal spells and you just do not want to know what she can do. I will tell you that I’d rather be sanctioned by the Horde that face her in combat.” He didn’t mention that he already had faced them and it had gone disastrously for him.  
Remus thought about that. It rang true to him and he considered what that meant. He was known to be one of the most powerful men in Europe – even more so than Sirius - and that was saying something. For Harley to be able to completely dismiss him as a threat meant that she had vastly more power than anyone except, perhaps, Albus Dumbledore and Albus was never going to see the outside of a prison cell again.  
“C’mon. Let’s go inside and find this thing, whatever it is, and go back to the Castle. I love London, but not at night and not with a piece of black magic in my possession.”  
“How do we get in?” Remus asked; pointing towards the very formidable-looking Gargoyles that blocked the way to the door.  
Sirius shrugged. “Simple.” He took out his Athame and cut his palm, allowing the blood to pool. Smearing it on the head of one of the Gargoyles, he said, “Know me.”  
The Gargoyle suddenly came to life, blinked, looked at him, and then sprang aside. “See? Easy-peezey.”  
Remus growled under his breath. “That was, I think, the easy part.”  
Sirius laughed. “Yea, probably, but it was cool!”  
“I’m going to neuter you, Padfoot, if you keep that up.”  
Sirius cringed. He had never liked hearing that particular threat. It felt all too real at times and there was no doubt that he was more vulnerable as Padfoot. Particularly if Harley or Hermione felt it necessary to express their displeasure at something he had done.  
A picture of Remus, as a Were, shaved clean and painted pink sprang to Sirius’ mind. He wondered if either Harley or Hermione would be the least bit bothered by a living, breathing Were. He knew Weres were largely magically resistant, but just how much so, he didn’t know. Not enough to protect them against Harley or Hermione’s magic, he was sure. He was also positive that a Were wasn’t at all resistant to their light-swords and that if necessary, either girl could defend herself against him. Not that they would ever willingly do him harm, because both girls had very loving hearts, but they could if pushed.  
When they got to the front door, it had a large, black Raven as a door-knocker. Sirius carefully touched it with the same hand he had used to get the Gargoyle to move. “Know me as a son of Black and grant me entrance.”  
The door creaked open and Sirius took out his wand. Grinning, he turned to Remus and said, “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.”  
Remus smacked his forehead and groaned. “I’ve got to get you away from the TV at Isabelle’s.”  
Sirius giggled. There was nothing he liked better than snuggling up on the sofa with Isabelle. Especially if they were watching a movie on the telley. Isabelle was one to wear precious little and what little she wore was often of the silky or lacy variety.  
“I won’t ask what you’re laughing about, Sirius, but I get the feeling that it has something to do with Isabelle.”  
“I say nothing…. I know nothing….” Sirius said, with a sing-song voice.  
Remus was having none of it. He knew that his best friend was deeply in love with Isabelle Ross and he was completely alright with that. She was a special witch and a powerful one at that. It was a good match, perhaps even a great one, and he wouldn’t stand in the way of it. Besides, he had found a witch of his own: the young Metamorph at the Auror academy – Nymphadora Tonks. It was funny because she was Sirius’ cousin; the daughter of Andromeda Tonks née Black.  
“Go on, you big oaf. Let’s find what we’re here to find and get the fuck out. This place gives me the creeps.”  
Sirius nodded and pushed the door open. “Wands out.” Casting a light ahead of them, they stepped into the old home. The halls were long but tall and narrow. There were cobwebs everywhere, forcing Sirius to cast cleaning charms repeatedly. He was worried that some of the more venomous magical spiders had infested the house. At least one, a cross between a ‘normal’ (i.e. non-magical) but incredibly dangerous Sydney Funnel-web spider _(Atrax robustus)_ and a Trinidad Chevron Acromantula, which was an abnormally large and magical version of the ‘normal’ version of Tarantula of the same name _(Psalmopoeus cambridgei)_ might have infested the house.  
Sirius knew that some fucking idiot wizard, whose name he did not know, had wanted to increase Acromantula spider-silk and thought that using a spider known for creating a great deal of it might be a great way to get it, forgetting that the Sydney Funnel-web Spider is very aggressive and horrifically venomous. If the dumb shit had really known anything, he would have used the silk from the Darwin's Bark Spider _(Caerostris darwini)_ , which has a silk that, when woven properly, is stronger than steel. Since its escape from captivity, the hybrid spider had become increasingly common in places where rats and mice existed in numbers and that meant that places like London, Manchester, and other large Muggle areas were susceptible to invasion by this nightmare spider – which, when full-grown, was the size of a large dinner-plate and all black, except for the white circular rings around its legs.  
Sirius didn’t want to think of what else might have made its way into the house, so he was taking every precaution. His Scourgefy was pushing layers upon layers of dust off the furniture and off the curtains and piling it up in the center of each room. Remus vanished every pile, while watching for movement in the corners of the rooms. It was slow going, but they knew they had to be careful. The place was a death-trap, given the narrow halls, because it limited the ability to retreat, if that became necessary. It was the thing that made Sirius genuinely angry at his God-daughter, since she would have the ability to bust through the house’ wards as if they weren’t even there, should the need arise to leave suddenly.  
Going up the first set of stairs was even more heavy-going and it took them the better part of an hour to do it safely. Once they were on the second floor, Sirius stopped for a moment and cast an Anima Revelio spell, in the hope that a soul-piece would register as a person. And it did. The signal came back, fast and strong. “It’s here, Remus. It’s here. We can do this.”  
“Don’t sound so fucking excited. We’re talking about a part of the Dork Lard’s soul. God knows what protections there are around it.”  
“If my brother stole it, then he broke most of the initial defenses around it. At least, that’s my guess.”  
“Sirius?”  
The way that he said Sirius’ name made the young Marauder turn around and look at his friend. “What?”  
“I… I’m not sure that I have it in me to cast the Killing curse, like Amelia did, if it comes to that.”  
The Killing Curse was one of the best examples of focused will and intent that there was in all of Magic. Remus was copping to a problem that Sirius knew many witches and wizards had: That you had to be able to feel the kind of hatred or desire to kill that was necessary to power the spell.  
Sirius nodded in understanding. “It’s alright, Remus. I understand. If it comes to that, I will do it, or I will ask one of the Unspeakables to do it. That’s one of the necessary qualifications for that department.”  
“Thank you” Remus said, softly. He didn’t like admitting to what he perceived as a weakness any more than the next man (or woman), so he was grateful that Sirius was willing to take the responsibility onboard.  
Sirius wasn’t going to say anything about the fact that his God-daughter could kill without a spoken word and without the Killing Curse and that he was terrified of what else she might be capable of doing. She was frightening enough without people knowing that she was pretty much unrestricted in her ability to kill.  
“The Soul-piece is close, Remus. We’ve got to be careful now.”  
“Keep cleaning. God knows what might be lying on the ground in front of us. If we can create a clean path to the object, we can get out of here that much safer.”  
Sirius had never seen a Dust-fish before, but they were horrible creatures. Looking like a cross between a Stingray and a gray, dusty carpet, they were ambush hunters; occupying abandoned castles and houses, they waited for someone to come along whom they could attack, envenomate, and then (once the victim was dead) consume over a period of days. They were known to grow to the size of a living-room carpet, which was more than slightly terrifying.  
Sirius had felt the Anima Revelio pulse most strongly off to his left, which he knew was the 2nd sitting room: The room where guests cooled their heels while waiting to see the Lord Black in his study or in the family library: Arcturus and Orion, his namesake, Sirius, and before them, Phineas Nigellas – the infamous philanderer and dirty old man of Hogwarts.  
Sirius stopped at the doorway to the sitting room. It was foreboding, even with his light shining above them. Gathering his magic, Sirius cast the most powerful Scourgefy that he could, focusing his will on cleaning as much of the room as he could. The pulse of magic washed over Remus and he was surprised at how pure it felt to him.  
What it left behind was a room that, if it didn’t exactly sparkle, smelled clean. There wasn’t the lingering scent of death, decay, or mildew, like there was in the Shrieking Shack at Hogwarts. Before Sirius could step another foot into the room, Remus put his arm out to block him. “Wait. Let me.”  
Sirius acquiesced easily enough and waited for his friend to do whatever he was going to do. It didn’t take long. “ANIMA REVELIO!” Almost immediately, a cabinet at the end of the room started shaking and a piece of jewelry started rattling around furiously.  
“Sirius! For fuck’s sake, BE CAREFUL!”  
Taking out a pair of tongs, Sirius made his way across the room and regarded the cabinet. It had a handle with a latch above it. Reaching out, he used the metal tongs to flip the latch upwards, releasing the door. He was so close that he could feel the menace of the object. It felt evil and dangerous.  
“Remus, get ready to bag this thing. I don’t want either one of us to touch it. Once we have it secured, we’ve got to get the fuck out of here. God knows what this thing has done to corrupt whatever creatures are in this house.”  
“I have the bag ready.” It was a Moke-skin bag, with as many charms as Remus knew how to perform layered on it.  
Reaching out, Sirius clamped the tongs around the silver locket. It was angry now. It was pulsing hatred towards them in a way that was disturbingly palpable. “I’ve got it. Get that fucking bag open.”  
Remus held the bag open and shoved it towards his friend. “Get it in and then let me get it sealed. Once I’ve done that, I’m not opening it again until we’re ready to destroy the fucking thing.”  
“Agreed. On three: One, Two, Three!” With that, he dropped the locket into the bag and Remus practically slammed it shut, binding it with just all the magic he had to give.  
Remus looked relieved. “Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here. I’m not coming back here until you get the Goblins to send a de-infestation team here to do a proper clean-out.”  
“It will be expensive, but fuck, that’s what the money is for. Not like I could ever spend it all, anyway.”  
“No kidding.” Remus agreed, as they raced down the stairs, towards the front door of the house. It felt like they had just successfully committed a burglary and neither one wanted to stop until they were well away from the scene. Sirius grabbed Remus and pushed him ahead.  
“Get going. I’ll close behind us and follow you. Get outside the wards and go straight to the DMLE. Find Amelia and let her know that we got it. She’ll know what to do.”  
Relying on his inner-wolf to give him he strength that he needed, Remus ran for the boundary, just the moment he was outside the front door, and disapparated. Sirius was steps behind him, using his family magic to close the house, before he too crossed the ward-line and disapparated.

**{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

  
**Just after 3:30 pm, Thursday, March 18th, 1993 - Hotel Hassler Roma, Central Rome, Italy**  


The Demonstration Team Judge had just left when Sirius returned to the master-suite for the School. “Da?”  
Sirius turned his head, seeing his God-daughter siting with Hermione in her lap. “You look tired. What happened?”  
Sirius shook his head. “Too tired to talk about it. It’s good news, but… it’s been a long day already.”  
Standing, Harley looked at him. “Love you, Da. Hermione and I are going to our room for a nap. Dinner?”  
“Tonight. I’ll talk to you then.” He made the international sign for I-love-you with his hand, which Harley reciprocated before disappearing with Hermione.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Private suite, moments later….**  


Harley and Hermione appeared, silently, a faction of a second after leaving the school’s master-suite. The room was quiet and lit only by the sunlight that was filtering through the heavy linen curtains. Harley closed her eyes and the room became darker. “Better” she whispered to Hermione. “Now, let me see what I can do to have my way with you… “  
“Hmmmm. I like that. No parents, no teachers, and time enough to enjoy you.” Hermione said as her lips brushed Harley’s.  
Harley loved how Hermione always went so languid and soft in her arms. “I’m going to strip you and then kiss you all over.”  
“I’m already wet.”  
Harley’s hands slipped down Hermione’s back, to clutch her ass and pull her even closer. “Silk?” she asked, as her fingers traced the wispy edge of her wife’s panties, before cupping her ass.  
“Yesssssssssssssss. Ohhhhhhhh. God, don’t stop!”  
Harley had no intention of stopping. There was no one hotter than Hermione, especially when she was dressed to thrill.  
“Is this a private party, or can I join?” came a sultry voice from the darkest part of the room. Harley broke away from kissing Hermione to turn towards the sound of the voice. It was Cho.  
“Cho?”  
“Hi. Sirius said that I should share the room with the two of you, since there were two double beds and you wouldn’t be needing both.”  
Harley leaned into Hermione’s mouth and whispered, “What do you think?”  
Hermione rolled her hips and pushed her sex forward, getting off on feeling her wife’s hand clutching her ass. “I think…“ and then she did something that she knew she wouldn’t regret. She leaned into her wife’s mouth, kissing her, before whispering, “Part of me really, really wants to, but I’ve not gotten enough of you alone yet.”  
Harley’s insides did a happy-dance. She wasn’t ready for anyone else. She hadn’t gotten enough of Hermione yet… not be a long shot, and all she really wanted to do was make love to Hermione. But… she had to admit to herself that she really liked Cho. A wicked idea came to her as she thought about the situation.  
“You want to strip her, and then let her watch us, while we make love?”  
The thought of someone watching them, up close and personal, while they made love, set her whole system aflame with desire and made her pussy pulse hot and wet with need. “Oh fuck… yes. Let’s.”  
Keeping her hand on Hermione’s ass, Harley turned and faced the beautiful Chinese girl. “C’mere.” Cho brightened as Harley reached one hand out to her and pulled her close, so that both she and Hermione had a free arm around the girl. “Hermione and I want to strip you…slowly…. And then have you watch us as we make love. Can you accept that?”  
The three of them stood as a triangle, undulating slowly, as Cho considered what was being offered.  
Cho giggled and then batted her eyes. “You promise to touch me all over while you’re undressing me? You promise not to miss any important spots?”  
Harley looked at Hermione intensely for a moment and saw her otherwise imperceptible nod. Turning to Cho, she leaned her head forward, touching Cho’s forehead and nose. “I think, sweetie, that we can definitely promise that.”  
Backing off, Harley watched as Hermione leaned forward and captured Cho’s lips with her own for a long moment before she backed off and said, “Hmmmmmm. That’s nice.”  
Cho had fantasized about Harley and Hermione so much since meeting them that she was on the edge of cumming, even without their touches. Her mother had warned her that powerful wizards or witches would likely do that to her, but she had been too young at the time to really appreciate the impact of the truth of it.  
With a push of will, the room became darker, so that they could no longer see colors, but just the outline of clothing on bodies.  
Reaching out a hand, Hermione cupped Cho’s right breast, filling her hand with the silk-covered flesh. Cho’s nipple pushed against the center of Hermione’s palm, and she could feel how turned on the girl was by the diamond-like hardness of it. Harley giggled quietly as she watched her wife touch the beautiful Chinese girl. It was clear that Cho was getting desperate for an orgasm. She was trembling all over and pushing her breasts into Hermione’s hands.  
Sliding behind her wife, Harley reached around with both hands and cupped her wife’s breasts, even as she pushed her sex against her wife’s bottom. “If I were a boy, I’d want to be fucking you right now. Maybe I should get a magical toy and do that.”  
Harley’s hot breath on her neck and her warm lips ruined any control that Hermione might have had and she shuttered in orgasm. Cho pushed herself as close as she could to the beautiful brunette. She wanted to kiss her again, desperately. In truth, she wanted to kiss both of them, but Hermione was more approachable than her wife. Something about Harley made her ache with desire, but also tremble with hesitancy.  
Cho leaned forward, capturing Hermione’s mouth with her own for a moment before she says, “Does she make you wet, Hermione? Do you want her to eat your pussy while I watch and finger-fuck myself?”  
Hermione moaned shamelessly and then banished her skirt with a push of will, before grabbing Cho’s free hand and shoving it down into her lacey, black silk panties.  
Cho wasn’t stupid and she wasn’t going to pass by the chance to make the beautiful girl cum, because while it was often true that it is better to give than to receive, in this particular case, receiving was going to be pretty fucking awesome… or pretty awesome fucking!  
Hermione’s hips started to undulate, back and forth, as she rode Cho’s fingers. The slim, beautiful girl’s fingers were deep in her hole and it was driving her mad with pleasure.  
Rolling Hermione’s nipples between her fingers, and cupping her breasts with her hands, Harley kissed the back of her wife’s neck and reveled in their magics, as they parted and then combined, over and over again, in a mystical dance that would be unexplainable to anyone who hadn’t experienced it first-hand.  
Cho could feel it; could feel the intertwining of Harley and Hermione’s magics, but couldn’t participate. Her magic wasn’t for them, which meant that she wasn’t meant to bond with them and she was completely alright with that. Just getting to be so intimate with them was more than satisfying.  
It was her last really coherent thought before Harley and Hermione reached for the buttons of her blouse and her skirt.  
<><><><><><><><><><><><>  
**Friday, March 19th, 1993 – The Great Colosseum of Rome – 9:30Am**  


The Parade of Schools had just been completed. No one knew where Hogwarts was, but the Parade wasn’t held up for them. Not showing up was their loss… so thought Rinaldi Benedict. He didn’t know Hogwarts, though he had heard of the school, of course, but there was national pride to consider. It the English didn’t want to come… that was their look-out! The other schools had paraded beautifully: each school’s team wearing their flag-colors. It had been beautiful… noisy, raucous… but beautiful! He was very proud.  
The sudden, earth-shaking, clap-of-thunder-loud BOOM! Resonated through the grounds and caught everyone in the Colosseum off-guard. In a circle, in the middle of the Colosseum stood the Hogwarts Demonstration Team. With Sirius Orion Black at the center of the circle and every team member dressed in black silk shirts and black-dragon-leather pants, with long black cloaks, and their staves of power showing just what they were, the Team took everyone by surprise.  
Rinaldi Benedict stood, momentarily speechless, as the Hogwarts Demonstration Team formed a triangle, with Sirius Black at the base of the formation, with his students in front and on either side of him. At the head? Her curly, indescribably beautiful red/black hair waving around her shoulders, stood Harley Janel Ross. The four-inch heels giving her stature yet beyond her physical years. The crowd watched as she took out her wand and pointed it skywards. A huge, fiery red-and-gold dragon appeared out of nowhere. It roared and then flew in a precise circle around the top of the colosseum, before shattering into letters that read, Hogwarts School Demonstration Team.  
Off to the side, hidden in the shadow of one of the ground-level tunnels, stood the War Mage, Pushpa Kumar. Swearing to himself, first in Hindi, then in Punjabi, and then in Shahpuri, which was his mother-tongue. She didn’t actually cast with her wand, he thought to himself. The little chit can cast wandlessly, wordlessly. She’d be a dangerous opponent. He didn’t know the half of it, of course, but that was true with almost everyone who observed her from afar.  
He wanted to cast a listening charm, that would give him a better sense of what was being said, but such a spell was detectable and might give away his position and expose his interest in the girl, which was contrary to his orders, unless it was absolutely necessary.  
He watched as Rinaldi Benedict finally gathered himself sufficiently to hurry to the middle of the colosseum grounds and greet the team. He had little doubt that the man would be angry at the obvious display of power and at the quite astonishing thumbing-one’s-nose that the school had just done via their arrival. No one else, himself included, could Apparate through the wards that the Goblins had put up… except, apparently, for these eight. It was an ability that he found himself very much wanting to learn… but his orders precluded him making contact for anything less than a full-on rampage by the two Magi and nothing was worth having that badly.  
Pushpa didn’t hear the exchange, which went off about how he had expected it.  
“How dare…”  
That’s as far as Rinaldi Benedict got before a magical force grabbed him by the throat  
and a soft, contralto voice said, “Your lack of greeting disturbs me.”  
The magical force clutching his throat had his complete attention, as did the glowing green eyes that were now concentrating solely on him. He wasn’t in pain, but he also knew he couldn’t get away and that he had stumbled into a potentially very bad situation. “Are you going to behave yourself?”  
Nodding, because there was nothing else to do but agree, Rinaldi Benedict focused his attention on the black/red-haired girl. The grip on his throat disappeared.  
“Signora, forgive me. Let me start again.”  
Sirius made his way forward, so that he was in front of the man. “Signor Benedict, I am Sirius Black, Headmaster of Hogwarts. You’ve now met my God-daughter, the Lady Harley Ross, of the House of Ross. We expected welcome, but not the one you gave. Now that we are here, perhaps you can show us where we will wait before taking our turn for the demonstrations-portion of the competition?  
What none of them noticed was that as their brief conversation happened, the entire stadium had gone silent, as it to witness the death of a known and respected gladiator. It wasn’t until Benedict turned to point at a small tent on the other side of the Colosseum that he realized what was going on. Pointing his wand at his throat, he whispered, Sonoro. “Amici, Romani, Connazionali!... prestami le tue orecchie. Sono qui per dare il benvenuto alla nostra nuova scuola! Scuola di Stregoneria e Magia di Hogwarts! Si prega di dare loro un caloroso benvenuto!”  
The crowd erupted with a loud, but short-lived cheer. Hermione whispered, “Dagworth and Ross elves, to me!”. This caused over 250 house-elves, every one of them dressed in either Ross or Dagworth colors, to appear in five tight columns of fifty each. Dobby appeared at the head of the assembled force, dressed all in black, wearing the sigil of the house of Ross. This demonstration of personal power caused a tremendous stirring in the stands. Most people couldn’t bond more than two elves, so commanding two hundred and fifty was an explicit show of power that no one else could match. It rocked Pushpa’s world and made him start swearing again. An army of two hundred fifty bonded house-elves was worth five thousand or more wizards – which was twice as many as were directly answerable to the IWC’s hit-wizard division. He shook his head. Two hundred fifty house elves and two Arch-magi and you had a magical force that no power on Earth could resist.  
“Dobby… you can distribute the gifts now.”  
Dobby turned and gave a silent command to the rest of the elves. As one, they popped away, only to start appearing in the stands, handing out a silver-and-burnished copper pin of a flying phoenix, with a capital H on its breast. It was a design by Seamus Finnegan that Hermione had immediately taken to and that Harley had Dobby create and mass-reproduce with just this event in mind. Dobby saw to it that everyone in the stadium gone one, including Pushpa. He thought it was very pretty.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  


The first day of the Invitational went well and despite his misgivings, Sirius felt that it had been worth it to make the effort to come. Everyone on the team was learning loads of magic, which they were then sharing between them. The Weasley Twins were doing a booming business in their novelty magical joke products – a catalog of which they were still developing – among the students from the other schools. Harley and Hermione were swamped with requests for pictures and private demonstrations of magic. Even Sirius, who’s escape from Azkaban and subsequent exoneration were news in parts as far away as eastern Europe and China, was asked for interviews, photos, and the like.  
It was only at the end of the day, when the first day’s dueling matches were finishing up that there was a problem.  
Sirius knew there was a problem when Harley came storming into the tent and started swearing about stupid fucking organizers, men who thought too much with their little heads, and people who were trying to get themselves killed.  
It took several long minutes to calm her down. Finally, Sirius looked at his God-daughter. “Alright. Spill. And don’t leave anything out.”  
Harley did so, but not before Hermione came up and took her wife’s hand and held her close. Sirius watched and listened, and began to feel the same level of anger that his God-daughter was feeling.  
After Harley was finished speaking, Sirius turned to Cho, the Weasley Twins, and Draco. “Ok. Here’s the deal. They want one of you to duel the European champion. He’s 17 and has permanently wounded most of his opponents. He’s angry and dangerous. But he’s none of you. I purposely did not allow any of your names to be entered into the dueling matches, even though, technically, we’re all ‘banned’ from participating. I absolutely cannot allow Hermione or Harley to duel. You all know why.” The kids all nodded. There was no one on Earth who could face them and live. You don’t challenge God and live to tell about it. Sirius would never say that, but deep down, everyone in the room knew it. Harley threw herself, dragging Hermione along, into a hug with her Godfather. Cho, Draco, Neville, and the Twins watched as Harley cried and said, “I love you, Da.”  
Sirius hugged his girls before turning to the rest and saying, “Who wants to represent us? Better yet, who wants to take down this bastard?”  
Cho, Draco, and Neville raised their hands. Sirius looked at them. “Neville, I can’t send you. There’s nothing green here and the dust is dry as bone. You’d be at a disadvantage. Draco… you’re awesome and everyone here loves what you can do. However, you don’t have the spark enough to beat this bastard into the ground if necessary. Don’t be ashamed about that. I respect that a great deal. You’re a better person for not having that spark.” His eyes came to rest on Cho. “Cho. Chang Li Qui. Lotus Blossom. Can you do this?”  
Cho smiled at the use of her proper Chinese name. “Headmaster. I can do this.”  
“Good. You are our champion then. Go. Beat this bastard. If he using lethal spells… put him into the ground. Hard.”  
Cho nodded. Hermione and Harley flashed to her side. “Come with us” they said, before taking her by the hand and disappearing.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  


Ten minutes later, Cho walked out onto the grounds, flanked by the two most powerful witches the Earth had ever seen. She was dressed in a tight, black-leather halter-top, black leather pants that looked like they were painted on her, knee-high black combat boots, her Athame – dangling from her belt, and her wand. Her hair was pleated now into one braid that flowed down them middle of her back.  
The sea of bodies parted as they made their way to the center of the Colosseum, where the raised dueling platform was located. As they walked up the six steps that led to the platform, Harley could see the opposing coach, as well as the referee. Parting from Hermione and Cho, she walked over to them.  
“Hello. I am the Lady Harley Janel Ross.”  
The coach nodded, but stayed silent. The Referee shook her proffered hand. “John Roberts. Hit Wizard, MCUSA.”  
“Thank you. I am here to let you know that if the Challenger uses any of the Unforgiveables, or black magic, there will be no where on Earth where he can hide. My wife and I will find him and we will kill him. Are we clear?”  
The coach for the European Champion, Vastaslav Burbatov, started to say, “You dare” and then realized who he was addressing and thought better of it. John Roberts simply looked at her and said, “Understood.”  
Cho took her place at the end of the platform. Harley turned and, without thinking about what she was doing, kissed her. “Don’t get yourself hurt. Hermione and I would be very, very unhappy and we wouldn’t be able to have a repeat of our fun, would we?”  
Cho smiled at her, batted her eyes, and said, “That would be intolerable. We shall have to make this short, so that we can get back to… practicing.”  
“Very good then. Make us proud, Cho.”  
“Thank you” She said, but much more quietly, before turning to face the other end of the platform and wait for the duel to begin.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  


At the other end of the platform, a much more furious conversation was happening. Burbatov was remonstrating with his protégé, trying to get him to take the duel seriously. “Look, God damn it. They’ve sent some Chinese chit, but don’t think for a moment that she’s going to be pushover. We have no idea what she’s capable of doing, but whatever it is, you’ll probably never have seen it before. You’ve got to get to her fast and early. Put her down before she can start doing whatever it is that she knows how to do.”  
Rabastan Ivanovich was, unfortunately, too far gone in ego to even pay attention to his master. He was too used to blasting his opponents off the stage with a barrage of cutters, Reducto’s, Bombarda’s, and other, similar spells. No finesse at all.  
He had no idea what he was facing and it was going to be too late by the time he realized it.  
By the time the referee came out and introduced the two duelists, the Colosseum was a mad-house. No one could hear anything. It didn’t worry Cho though. She was meditating and finding her magical center; making sure that she could feel her magic and that it was ready to answer her call.  
“On my mark! READY! SET!.... FIGHT!”  
To Rabastan’s credit, he opened fast and hard. Unfortunately, his target was no longer there and it was already too late. Cho appeared behind him, pulled his feet out from underneath him, so that he landed on his back, and then hit him in the head, at close range, with the most powerful stunner that she could muster. It would be almost a week before he woke up. He never saw her take his wand from him and didn’t hear the crowd roar, loud and long, for the new European Champion.  
It should have ended there, but it didn’t. Vataslav Burbatov boiled up onto the stage and started yelling, “You cheated! You conniving bitch! Reducto!”  
He never saw her light sword come out of nowhere. He never saw his cowardly spell deflected towards the sky, and he never saw the blade that cut his head off.  
BOOM! The platform suddenly became a very dangerous place to be as Harley and Hermione appeared beside Cho, their blades glowing. When Sirius came charging up onto the platform, people gave way.  
“Where is Benedict?!”  
“Here, Headmaster Black” Benedict said, afraid for what might happen next. The three girls with swords were holding everyone at bay while Sirius tried to resolve the situation.  
Grabbing the ignominious asshole by the front of his robes, he drew him in close and then started yelling. “I told you this could happen! You didn’t fucking listen to me! There’s not a single god-damned one of you who is capable of taking on my students! I warned you about this. I TOLD you that it was too dangerous. Now we have a dead person and a student who is going to wake up angry and probably try to do something exceptionally stupid, which will ultimately result in his messy death.”  
Benedict looked at him, horrified. “How do you know that?”  
Sirius pushed him violently, before he started yelling once again. “BECAUSE I’M A GRIM, YOU FUCK-WIT! I can tell these things. Every fiber of my being tells me he’s going to get himself killed.”  
The referee from MCUSA said, sotto voce, “I’d like to see that.”  
Sirius turned to him and focused on him with his complete attention. “No, you don’t.”  
When the MCUSA referee realized what Sirius was saying, he almost pissed himself. Seeing a Grim was not a good thing.  
“We’re done here.”  
“But you can’t leave! You haven’t done your demonstration yet!”  
Sirius whipped around and almost grabbed Rinaldi Benedict by the throat. “Who the fuck do you think you are to tell us what we can and cannot do? You’ve already caused the death of a man and the probable death of another. One of my students has had to take a life because you’re a dumb, arrogant son-of-a-bitch. She has no reason to be happy with you right now. Maybe I should put you on the dueling platform with my God-daughter.”  
The man paled at the thought of facing her. No one wanted to face her.  
Sirius looked around. “Hogwarts students to me. We’re leaving.”  
“Where to, Da?” Harley asked softly.  
“To the tent, to get the others, and then home to Hogwarts.”  
Pushpa Kumar watched from the shadows as it all fell apart for Rinaldi Benedict and he watched as the Hogwarts Demonstration Team disappeared into an inky blackness. Seeing them disappear a second time, he realized that there was something familiar about the way they did that which rang a bell for him. He had seen it before, somewhere else, he was sure of it.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  


**Sunday, March 21, 1993 – Hogwarts Great Hall**  


Normally, Sirius and Isabelle would eat a late breakfast in his private quarters, but Sirius was sure that the shit was going to the fan because of the way that the European Invitational had ended for them, which was to say that they had chosen to leave rather than stay and participate in the demonstration part of the Invitational. They had demonstrated quite enough in Sirius’ estimation and he hadn’t wanted to have his students exposed to any more foolishness. It also didn’t hurt to have what his students were capable of hidden from the general public. Enough was already known about his God-daughter and her wife so that he was perpetually annoyed at the sometimes caustic, rude, and always arrogant letters that he received from members of the public who insisted that his God daughter come and solve some problem or other. Those kinds of letters never received an answer. There were also the demands for interviews that went unanswered. There were also the letters that inquired, however circumspectly, as to whether Harley would be open to having a second wife. Those letters were burnt immediately, so that Harley never got wind of them. He really didn’t need to have her going ballistic on people any more than she had already done and probably would in the future, for reasons that were or would be entirely justified.  
This morning, he was expecting a larger-than-normal Parliament of owls, because of what he believed would be a great many articles, in both the domestic and continental papers, about what had happened at the Invitational. He would turn out to be wrong, erring too low in his estimates by almost half.  
One article, in particular, caught his eye. It was by the Magical Paris Times – Le Journal Temps du Paris Magique said the following:

TROUBLE COMES TO EUROPEAN INVITATIONAL  
By Edward R. Troll

Trouble came to the European Invitational yesterday and this time, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were the victims, not the perpetrators.  


Usually, there is cause to pin blame on Hogwarts. Either its leadership or its students. Not this time. This time the Headmaster, Lord Sirius Orion Black, and his students, Lady Harley Janel Ross, of the House of Ross, her wife, the Lady Hermione Jane Dagworth-Ross née Granger, Scion Draco Lucius Malfoy, of the House of Malfoy, Chang Li Qui (Cho) – secondary heiress to the House of Chang, Scion Neville Longbottom of House Longbottom, and the Weasley Twins, Fred and George, of the Minor House of Weasley were all innocent of any kind of wrongdoing or even mischief.  
There are, of course, questions aplenty to direct toward the Lady Ross, but no one wants to get close enough to ask them. She is known to have a volatile temper and is extraordinarily protective of her wife, the Lady Dagworth-Ross. There are six deaths directly attributable to the Lady Ross and at least six more that are extremely suspicious. Each one ties back to someone who tried to hurt the Lady Dagworth-Ross. No reporter is willing to risk her wrath and that’s not a good thing. No one should be above questioning, and in her defense, the Lady Ross has never claimed that she is, but her actions say, “leave me alone” and journalists have taken that to heart.  


However, she’s not the point of this story. Rather, it’s the gross incompetence of the European Invitational who are to blame. Hogwarts was invited to perform with the strict and open understanding that they would NOT participate in the dueling portion of the Invitational. That was because the new headmaster, Lord Sirius Orion Black, insisted on it. He claimed, rightly he believed, that his students outclassed anyone that any other school could offer and that it was actually dangerous to those students to put his claims to the test. It is extremely unfortunate that the Invitational organizers chose not to believe him. Because of their arrogance, one of the preeminent dueling coaches is dead, the former dueling champion is still in hospital, and the championship is now in the hands of a 14 year old girl from Hogwarts. Not that anyone is going to get it back from her. She’s the champion until she turns 17. God help contestants if one of the 1st year Hogwarts students decides to take up dueling on the school circuit. They would own the championship from here on out.  
In the meantime, I urge the Headmasters of the various Invitational-eligible schools to consider what happened this year. What should have been a happy, educational event turned into a disaster because of the arrogance and short-sightedness of a couple of men. Maybe we should put the women in charge?

Sirius read the article with a mixture of unhappiness and surprise. Any negative publicity about his God-daughter was likely to piss him off, and this certainly qualified, but he was also surprised at the tone the article took towards the organizers of the Invitational. He had never seen a legitimate journalist take such people to task with the kind of in-your-face condemnation that this one did.  
Picking up the next article, by the Italian newspaper, Magical Rome Today - Roma Magica Oggi – and started reviewing the articles. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for. 

**“DISASTER AND DEATH AT THE EUROPEAN INVITATIONAL”  
BY TIBERIUS RINALDUS**

“Death and disaster” – an apt description of what happened yesterday at the Magical and Scholastic European Invitational which was held at the Colosseum over the past week.  
Things had been going along swimmingly until the dueling matches began. Someone, and fingers are pointing at the principle organizer, Rinaldi Benedict and his staff, decided that a match between the current European dueling champion for the 16/17 yr. old division and a student of Hogwarts’ choosing was just the thing to inject some drama into the Invitational.  
The match itself lasted just four seconds, with the Hogwarts student, Li Qui (Cho) Chang, defeating the raining European champion, Rabastan Ivanovich so easily that his trainer, Vataslav Burbatov, ran up onto the stage and attempted to kill her. That caused her to defend herself and decapitate him with some kind of sword.  
Ms. Chang (14) has, of course, been cleared of any kind of liability, since her act was self-defense.  
The international magical dueling federation, which was subsumed under the auspices of the IWC two years ago, in order to better regulate the sport and remove persistent and believable accusations of widespread cheating, as well as the rampant betting that occurred off-book in some of the less reputable neighborhoods of cities across all of the IWC member states, issued this statement regarding what happened:  


20 March 1993  
The incident that occurred at the European Magical and Scholastic Invitational on Friday highlights the necessity of strict regulation of Dueling as a sport, a demonstration, or otherwise. It is beyond sad that the European champion – a powerful young man whose incredible control of his magic, agility, and speed were a thing of beauty - was forced to face someone whom the event organizers had already been told outclassed him in every way, despite her age. The International Magical Dueling Federation’s (IMDF) board of Overseers condemns the actions of Vataslav Burbatov in the strongest possible terms and would have sought his punishment had he not died as a result of his actions, but also extends its sympathies to his family and hopes that they find comfort and peace in Mr. Burbatov’s extraordinary record of achievement as a coach and teacher. He will be remembered as a great man who made a tragic mistake; one that the IWC hopes is not repeated, for everyone’s sake.  
There is no reason at all that a young girl should have been put in the position of defending her own life and the IMDF condemns, in the harshest manner, the actions of the event’s organizers. It is disgusting and outrageous that a group of men should have come to this decision, all in the name of ‘spicing up’ the event. The IWC will be forced to re-consider whether or not dueling will be allowed at all at the next Invitational, based on what happened this year.  
\- Lord James Tubin, IWC representative for Sport

Readers of this column are aware that Dueling has been a major problem over the last two thousand years in Rome. The Gladiatorial Games were particularly violent and now serve as a constant reminder of the barbarity of Man. It is tragic and sad that death has returned to the Colosseum because of Dueling. Perhaps it is time that we put this behind us for good. If the Americans can ban boxing, surely we can ban dueling!

Sirius read the article with a sense of satisfaction. It made sense to him and put dueling in its proper light: a bloody dangerous sport that invited many more problems than it was worth. It was an article that he could show the students, since thinking about these kinds of issues was part of his remit as a teacher and Headmaster.  
The next article was from the Daily Prophet and he picked it up and started reading it. The Prophet had always been a muckraker, for good or for ill, and it often latched onto whatever juicy bit it could, in order to make another Knut. 

**HOGWARTS GOES TO THE EUROPEAN INVITATIONAL AND DEATH FOLLOWS”  
By I.M. Liing **

Hogwarts went to the European Magical and Scholastic Invitational in Rome this year… and death followed. In what should have been a great demonstration of Dueling, one of Hogwarts’ younger students, Li Qui (Cho) Chang, dueled the reigning European 16/17 yr. division champion, Rabastan Ivanovich. If you call it a duel. The match, such as it was, lasted four seconds. Just enough time for Ms. Chang to Apparate behind Ivanovich, knock his feet out from underneath him, and stun him and point-blanke range. As is this writing, Mr. Ivanovich hasn’t woken up yet.  
Mr. Ivanovich’s personal coach and trainer, Vataslav Burbatov, made the critical mistake of charging the platform and attempting to kill Ms. Chang. It was a fatal error. Ms. Chang took Mr. Burbatov’s head off with a light-sword – the same kind as wielded by her friends, the Ladies Ross and Dagworth-Ross.  
Three things should jump out at you from this: (1) How the hell does a 14 yr. old Apparate within a building where the Goblins have installed their best, most defensive wards, to prevent Apparating into or out of the building? (2) how does a 14 yr. old have such a stunner that her victim hasn’t woken up yet? And (3) Where did that light-sword come from? After exhaustive research at the private library of the Ministry for Magic, to which I was granted special access, there is not a single record of such a weapon ever having been created. This begs the question, What the hell are they teaching at Hogwarts?  
I would put these questions to her, but Hogwarts has a standing order to prevent journalists from getting anywhere near students. Hogwarts also has the only living pair of female Arch-Magi on Earth. Said Arch-Magi also don’t like journalists, which is why we leave Hogwarts alone.  
If I ever learn what is happening at Hogwarts, I will let you know. Then I will leave the country, change my name, and pray that they don’t find me. 

Sirius sat back and thought about what the Prophet had said. It gave him a heads-up, certainly, on what other schools and other Headmasters/Mistresses might be thinking. It also gave him reason to want to protect the school’s magic, because of the fear that the magic they were teaching created in those who didn’t know better. Jealousy and fear made people do stupid things and his students didn’t need that in their lives.  
There was something incredibly special about what they were achieving and he was seeing the fruits of the combined efforts of the teachers and students everywhere he went in the school. Not that he really appreciated the swamp in the Third floor-west hallway that the Weasley twins had cop’d to creating, but it was an amazing bit of magic and there was a kind of peace that he found, looking down the long hallway and seeing birds flying about, singing, and hearing the chirping of frogs and crickets.  
He also thought that the planetarium that the muggle-born students had created in the first-floor (east) combined classroom was amazing. Having the Centaurs come and teach their star-magic and lore to the students was brilliant – since no other school was doing it and it set them apart.  
As he thought about his obligations, he could feel the school’s wards settling on him in a way he hadn’t felt before. It was almost as if they had been waiting for him to come to certain realizations before giving him the control that other headmasters had enjoyed. As he looked around, he wondered what James and Lily would have said about him becoming Headmaster. James would have laughed himself sick at the thought of one of the Marauders taking over the school. And he would have been proud as anything about Harley and the person she’s becoming. Now I just have to protect her until she’s an adult and we have to put Riddle down, once and for all.

**{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

  



	6. Dawn's New Light - Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco triumphs, Harley creates another problem, and a great witch passes into Immortality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 6  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com**

  


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**From Chapter Five…..**  
He also thought that the planetarium that the muggle-born students had created in the first-floor (east) combined classroom was amazing. Having the Centaurs come and teach their star-magic and lore to the students was brilliant – since no other school was doing it and it set them apart. As he thought about his obligations, he could feel the school’s wards settling on him in a way he hadn’t felt before. It was almost as if they had been waiting for him to come to certain realizations before giving him the control that other headmasters had enjoyed. As he looked around, he wondered what James and Lily would have said about him becoming Headmaster. James would have laughed himself sick at the thought of one of the Marauders taking over the school. And he would have been proud as anything about Harley and the person she’s becoming. Now I just have to protect her until she’s an adult and we have to put Riddle down, once and for all.

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**Monday, April 19, 1993 – Office of the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, London, UK**  
Not everyone was happy with the conditions that were developing in the magical U.K. One of those Deloris Jean Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. In recent months, she had been relegated to secondary, repetitive tasks that “beneath the dignity of a pure-blood witch”. Deloris was not a woman who was happy with the person she had become. At 43, she was short, chubby to the point of being fat, and ugly. Worse, she was a third-class witch who’s Myrddin rating was just barely 600; marking her completely ineligible for the marriage market. No one wanted her mediocre magical abilities polluting their family’s gene-pool.  
Deep down, Deloris Jean knew this and it made her furious. It also humiliated her. No one asked her, anymore, if she was going to get married or if she was seeing someone. Everyone knew or suspected that the reason she had yet married was that she was either gay or didn’t qualify to marry into a desirable family. That was a stigma that followed her around and made her the butt of many jokes at the Ministry. It was also the reason that she didn’t have any adult girlfriends or women with whom she socialized. It’s hard to stomach the company of someone who’s bitter about her life because she sucks as a witch.

When information started filtering through the Ministry that Hogwarts students, especially the younger ones, were performing magics that no one had ever seen before and were capable of Apparating anywhere in Europe or even as far as Western Greenland, and as far as the eastern Ural plains in Russia and as far south as the Central African Republic, Deloris Jean started to grow annoyed.

Not that she wasn’t already angry, she was. In fact, she had been nurturing a deep-seated, almost boiling hatred of the Ladies Ross since word of their existence had hit the papers. The fact that Harley Janel Ross was the Lady Ross and First of the Sacred Twenty-Eight sent Deloris Jean completely around the twist. That a 13-year-old should command such power and look so fucking good while doing it was completely humiliating (to her). It made her want to kill, and that wasn’t a feeling that she liked, though she was used to it -ever since she had been raped and sodomized in the Slytherin common room as a 4th year student while fifth, sixth, and seventh-year boys looked on and clapped.  
To her eternal frustration, she knew that no one would do that to the Lady Ross! Not while she or the lady Dagworth-Ross lived. Six, perhaps eight pure-bloods had died since the Lady Ross had emerged on the scene. At least four were full-grown, adult Aurors, three were students, and one was unknown. And to think that the Minister for Magic himself was, if not enamored of the Ladies Ross, at least publicly supportive of them! The simpering fool! Couldn’t he see a danger when he met one? Gah! It made her so angry!  
This day, Deloris Jean was tasked to overseeing installation of new entrances into Diagon Alley and some of the lesser-known, but connecting streets that connected to London’s principal magical shopping area. As she walked down long hall that formed the central core of the Ministry building, she looked around. It was disturbingly quiet. For 11 am on a Monday, it was actually too quiet. As if there was something going on that she didn’t know about, that had commanded everyone’s attention. It was then that she saw the poster: **HOGWARTS DEMONSTRATION TEAM: NOON, AT THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH PITCH. REFRESHMENTS, GAMES, AND PICTURES WITH THE TEAM!**  
She kept reading. “Meet the English National Quidditch Team and see the Great Challenge Race: Hogwarts’ Best Against the National Team.”  
Why hadn’t anyone told her about this? Why was she stuck doing scut-work? Didn’t anyone appreciate her? She ground her teeth. She didn’t like the answer that the little voice in her head came back with.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**   


  
**Hogwarts’ Quidditch Pitch – about the same time – Monday, April 19th, 1993**  
Lucius Malfoy was having the time of his life. Holding his pregnant wife’s hand, he moved with the pride and joy of a man whose dreams have been realized. His son had just crushed… not just beaten, but crushed the best seeker that the British National Team had fielded in years. Draco was the Hero of Hogwarts and he was being hugged by pretty much every girl in the school – to his pleased embarrassment. The Ladies Ross had practically mobbed him when he landed and hugged him with abandon. This caused Narcissa to break down, crying with happiness and pride in her son.  
It was the beginning, Lucius felt, of a new part of his life. The mark on his arm that had haunted him for so long was gone; ripped out by its magical roots by the only person stronger than the Dork Lard: Harley Ross. God knows that Albus had never offered to do it, though he was also a mage. It freed Lucius from an awful decision that he had made as an astonishingly stupid young man. Not that it was easy, but Harley had looked at the mark and realized what had been done to him. It was much more than a brand: It was a siphon to his magic, as well as a slaver’s brand.  
Tearing it out had required a blood sacrifice from the people who loved him: his son and his wife, and an offering of magic from the one doing the reparative magic. Harley told him that if he repented his actions and truly was remorseful of what he had done as a young man, that she would give her magic on his behalf. It burned him with shame that someone who, as a baby, he swore he hated, would grow up to be a person willing to give of herself on his behalf.  
Harley had walked into the sacrificial circle, naked and unashamed, and made the sacrifice necessary to remove the brand from him. When she finished the ritual, she closed the circle, dressed without a word, and left; leaving him to cry out his shame and regret. Since that day, he woke every morning grateful for the second chance he had been given and promising himself to give back, in whatever way he could. He would no longer be led astray by promises of power or wealth. He had both now in a greater abundance than he had ever imagined possible.  
“Father!” Draco came running across the pitch and launched himself into his father’s arms. “I’ve been invited to come and train with the National team this summer!”  
Lucius hugged him tight and then said, “I am so proud of you, Draco! Are you going to forget about your parents when you’re an international star?”  
Draco hugged him tight and then said, “Never, father.”  
Lucius could feel the truth of his son’s words and felt the Malfoy Family Magic stirring powerfully in the three of them. It felt clean and pure for the first time in more than two decades and he wondered how the hell he had ever thought that Tom Riddle was worth following.  
Turning to his beautiful wife, who was dressed in an elegant, pale yellow sun-dress than complimented her gorgeous black hair and blue eyes, he said, “Cissa? Are we going to allow our progeny to go and travel the world, beating up on unsuspecting Seekers or are we going to make the sacrifice and travel with him?”  
Narcissa giggled. She could hear the laughter in her husband’s question. “Oh husband, such a sacrifice our son is asking us to make! Oh, to have to travel the world and keep an eye on him. I can’t imagine just how much you’ve asked of us!”  
At this point, Draco was rolling his eyes. He had never heard such pure happiness in his parents’ voices. He couldn’t help but insert his own snark. “Father, mother… if you can’t see your way to making such a sacrifice, I suppose that there are some young ladies who are willing to go to such an effort. I could always ask them.”  
Narcissa tried to look scandalized, but failed when she burst into laughter. “I think he has us, my lord-husband.”  
“He’s a scoundrel, wife. I blame that on you.”  
“Oh! Woe is me! I’ve raised a scoundrel. The shame!” She put both hands over her heart and closed her eyes.  
“That’s it. I’m asking the Greengrasses for adoption!” Draco said in a laughing huff.  
Lucius looked at his son. “I think that would be counter-productive to some of your interests, my son. Last I heard, Ms. Greengrass had warmed your bed at least once.”  
Draco looked alarmed. “How did you hear about that?”  
“Oh please, son. Don’t you think that the Lady Ross enjoyed giving us that bit of gossip?”  
“Betrayed I tell you! I’ve been betrayed!”  
“Betrayed by whom, Draco?”  
Draco turned and saw Harley approaching, hand in hand with Hermione. “You!”  
Harley and Hermione laughed. “Oh please… as if you didn’t see that one coming! Your mother practically beamed when I told her about the looks of adoration that your friends give you.”  
“And all the kisses”, Hermione added, her eyes laughing mischievously.  
Draco looked behind Harley and Hermione and saw the reporters who were trailing along at a respectful distance.  
“I think we need to take this to a more private location” Draco said.  
“Unfortunately, Harley and I have to stay here and do the second part of the demonstration. You might want to stay and see it.”  
Draco waved it off. “I’m sure I’ll get to see parts of it in the next year. Besides, there’s always the Pensieve.”  
The two girls nodded in understanding. Draco needed to have a private conversation about Tracey and Daphne and where he stood with them. It wasn’t too early to think about betrothal contracts with both of them. Hermione knew both girls were more than willing.  
Hermione and Harley both curtsied to the Malfoys, showing them the respect their house deserved. In return, Lucius kissed their hands and promised them the continued friendship and support of his house and Narcissa hugged both girls energetically.  
“Until later?”  
“Dinner at our house, Lady Ross?”  
“If we can bring my Da?”  
Narcissa nodded. “He’s family. Bring him and we’ll make dinner for the six of us.”  
Hermione and Harley both bowed their heads. They knew that inviting Isabelle wasn’t going to happen… yet. At some point, Lucius’ frustration at what Isabelle had done would pass, but until then, she couldn’t attend a family dinner at the Malfoy’s. If Neville held dinner at his family’s demesne, that would be different. Then she’d be welcome.  
Hermione felt Harley’s hand close around hers as the Malfoys walked off as a family. “C’mere, love” Harley said quietly.  
Hermione went languid in her wife’s arms and let her self be reeled in, so that Harley could hold her close. The reporters who were nearby watched what was happening and a couple of them started to raise cameras. They were quickly batted down by the other reporters, setting off a bit of a scuffle. Harley watched the scene play out, peripherally out of one eye. She didn’t care what the reporters did so long as they didn’t get to close or do something that annoyed or hurt Hermione. Then she’d go medieval on them and not a single one of the reporters present wanted that.  
Finally though, she had had enough of their gawking and she whispered to Hermione, “come with me.”  
She closed her eyes and in a moment, they were more than one hundred yards away, on the other side of the Quidditch pitch.

**> <><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Fred and George Weasley were as happy as pigs in shit. Or Br’er-Rabbit in the Briar-patch. They had never had such a large audience before, for any of the magic that they had created together, and they were loving it. Molly and Arthur Weasley were in attendance and they were mesmerized by the powerful magics that all of their children, save for their youngest, moRon, could do. Even their youngest, Ginny, had learned the knack of Apparating the way her heroines did. It left the adult Weasleys wondering if they were going to be able to retain any kind of control over their children at all.  


Percy was also in his element. He had been tasked with overseeing the event and managing the timing of the performances, as well as making sure that the students’ personal space was respected by the media. He grinned, maliciously, as he fingered the cards that were in is pocket. They were for distribution to the media, to remind them of the pecking-order in the world. The cards said simply, “The Ladies Ross are watching”. It gave Percy a sense of power that he was entrusted to make sure that everything happened the right way today. His OCD (or ‘CDO’, if that’s your problem) wouldn’t allow for anything but order.

It didn’t hurt that the Headmaster himself had pulled him aside weeks ago and said, “We’re counting on you to get this right, Percy. We’re not worried about your grades, since you’ve already shown yourself to be eminently capable of passing your NEWT’s with flying colors. I can’t be everywhere at once. You’re my hands for this event, understand?”  


Meanwhile, Ginny was thrilled that she could attend such an event. The money that Hermione had slipped to her on the sly had gone to buying her a brand-new wardrobe, including a lovely white-and-red, age-appropriate, calf-length sun-dress and 2” dress-pumps that fit her feet better than anything she had ever worn before. Molly had been tempted to pitch a fit over the new dress, but she was pulled aside by Jane Court long enough for the young woman to admonish the portly housewife about yelling at her youngest regarding something that was none of her business and that could amount to a deliberate insult to the House of Ross if she pushed it.

Li Qui (Cho) Chang began her demonstration to the attendant audience of 5,000+ with a fiery exchange with Harley, who as a Parselmouth, had a particular affinity for Fiendfyre. Trading massive hoops of burning flame back and forth, the two girls looked like they were playing catch or juggling. It didn’t take long, however, for members of the audience to realize that Cho was doing something special. For every three rings of fire that she caught from Harley, one went up, into the sky, to hang above the stadium. Eventually, she had twenty-one; three groups of seven, which was a particularly powerful number. Then she started creating floating, fiery runes. These she would toss up, into the air, to hang burning until she got to them. Once she had the twenty-one runes that she needed, she used her magic to push them into the fiery rings she already had burning in mid-air.  


  
  
Drawing her Athame, Cho let everyone see her cut her palm to draw blood, which she then collected in her hand and pushed skyward, into the burning Runes. The moment that the blood and the Runes connected, Cho’s magic started to pulse and flare around her. Anyone who had Mage-sight was treated to quite the exhibition.  


Cho’s demonstration was just beginning though. The seven magical rings, each with fourteen runes inside them, just like one would lay out a clock-face, except with fourteen symbols instead of twelve, started to move in the sky, until they were in orbit above her head. People in the audience could feel the power building and some of them looked nervous. It is hard to have faith in the magical capabilities of a 14 year old girl, or so they thought.

  


A few of the more attuned witches and wizards, however, began to sense that this beautiful young woman was doing something much more than a light-show. The Runes Mistress for the school, distracted by the fire display, began reading the Runes that the young witch was using and sucked in a shocked breath when she did so. Oh, for the love of God, who taught her how to do *that*? And why is she doing it here?

  


There are very few things that can’t be done if you’re sitting over four intersecting Ley lines and a massive pool of magic, like Hogwarts does. One of the things that can be done is a Ritual of Purification. The reason that so many wizards and witches fail while attempting this particular ritual is that you need to have access to truly massive well of magic in order to make it possible or you need to be a massive well of magic. Cho wasn’t a massive well of magic, like her two powerful friends, but she knew how to manipulate the magic she needed, thanks to her friends’ teachings.  
At the right moment, Cho pushed everything she had into the orbiting rings above her and began to chant an old, Gaelic chant that was take from Druidic tradition. At the seventh repetition, the rings started to glow rhythmically. At the apex of the last word of the last (21st) repetition, a pulse went out from the rings, in every direction, until the land, all the way to the Horizon, glowed gold. Cho was barely able to close the circle before she fell to her knees, but she was grinning like a loon. She had done what no one had done on these lands in a thousand years: A Ritual of magical purification.  
Hermione looked out, over the concourse, and into the stands. Cho had wielded power in the extreme in order to successfully carry out the Ritual and Hermione could feel the magic of it thrumming through her body.  
On the other end of the pitch, there was surprise as well, but not the happy kind. Two men were dead, having toppled over towards the very end of the Ritual. Lucius Malfoy took charge of the scene, commanding everyone to stand away from the body.  
“Who are these men?” someone asked from the crowd.  
Lucius has his suspicions, so he banished the cloth around each man’s left arm. The crowd gasped, almost as one, as the faded dark marks on their arms pulsed black, before fading away entirely.  
The men were Death-eaters for sure, but Lucius didn’t know them, which was a curious thing since he had known most of Riddle’s followers, especially the ones of note. He called out to the crowd, raising his voice so it carried over the throng. “Does anyone know these men?”  
“I think that’s Xavier Nott on the left” a voice called out. “Isn’t the one on the right Fudge’s younger brother kid?” Lucius blinked. He should have recognized the young man by the eyebrows alone. “Toddy?”

Toddy, Lucius’ personal elf after Dobby left to serve Harley, appeared out of nowhere. “Toddy, could you please go get the Headmaster? And then when you’ve done that, get Amelia Bones?  
The elf, who was dressed in a grey, pleated dress and grey leather boots, said, “Immediately, Master Lucius, sir!”  
Lucius shook his head. His personal elves had changed since Dobby left… and since he had come to be so indebted to the Lady Ross. Now they were speaking proper English and were functioning as a well-oiled team: Anticipating his needs, offering suggestions (however timidly still), and getting things done for him that made being the Lord Malfoy just that much easier. He had no idea that Harley and Hermione commanded more than two hundred and fifty elves, since having first retained Dobby’s services.  
He would have shit himself to see such a powerful force. No one he knew, be he lord or master of a company, commanded anything like that number. If was a force large enough to take over the Ministry for Magic in an hour, especially if Harley and Hermione were leading the effort. In less than two minutes, Sirius Black and Amelia Bones both appeared at his side. Lucius laughed raucously at Sirius’ first comment, “They’ve got to stop killing people.” “Lord Black, your God-daughter and daughter-in-law had nothing to do with the death of these two. Take a look at their left arms.”  
Amelia gathered her skirts and knelt down. Taking out her wand, she muttered something under her breath, and a black skull with a snake running through it appeared, floating in mid-air.  
Standing up, she said, “Death Eaters.” Lucius nodded. “One on the left is Xavier Nott, the Late Lord Nott’s younger brother, and the one on the right is Cornelius Fudge’s younger brother’s elder son. I don’t remember his name, but the eyebrows….”  
Amelia smiled a tight smile. “Hard to mistake.”  
“I take it the Ritual killed them?”  
“That’s my assumption, Lord Black” Lucius said. “Just how many of these fuckers were there?” Sirius asked, not directing the question at either one of his guests specifically. “Sixty, maybe seventy at the height of Riddle’s powers. No more than that. It never was a really big movement.”  
Sirius turned to Amelia Bones and said, “Amelia, can you get these two bagged and tagged and out of here, before they ruin the whole event?”  
Amelia nodded. “Twenty minutes, maybe less, if the crowd cooperates.”  
“If you would, please. It’s holding up the rest of the demonstrations.”  
“Well, it’s not a homicide, so we can skip some of the preliminaries. There was no willful intent, so we can skip interviewing anyone, and they apparently died of a magic-related cause, so we don’t have to dig for a weapon… so yea, twenty minutes or less to get the photographs we need and then we’re done and out of here.”  
“Very good. Lucius, if you’d come with me, I’d appreciate it. Your son’s recruitment by the National Team is causing something of a stir among the newsies and I think you’ll want to speak on his behalf.” Taking the tall, blond-haired man’s hand, Sirius Apparated them both to the Great Hall, where the press was set up. It was going to be a long afternoon… and not even half of the demonstrations were done yet! 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
**Tuesday, April 20, 1993 – Office of the Prime Minister**

John Major’s tenure in office had been filled with consternation, challenges, and the occasional gnashing’s of teeth. This day was a day wholly unlike any other though. His a-number-one problem child was at it again. And this time, it was something so big, so incredible that he was still having a hard time wrapping his head around it. Hlengiwe M’Bala had already reported the preceding day’s events to the IWC, from the perspective of the information that she was receiving from her sources, but the PM had no idea. He would be, of course, shitting a brick.  


  
How does one report to her Majesty that one of her magical citizens has grown up a mountain in the Kingdom? Worse, how do you explain to Parliament that there is, in fact, a new mountain that they were going to have to recognize and deal with, since it wasn’t there yesterday. Hlengiwe knew her boss well enough to know that that would be exactly what he would be thinking.  
The phone on his desk rang and he picked it up. It was his most private line, meaning a call from the military. “Major here” he answered crisply.  
“Call for you, Sir, from Brass Hat” It was Hlengiwe’s voice.  
“Put it through.”  
She did so and he picked up. “Major.”  
“Sir, this is Brass Hat” by that he meant the Chief of the General Staff.  
“Go ahead, General.”  
“Sir, we have indication that there has been a massive, surface seismic event in the northwest part of Scotland.”  
“Tell me what you know.”  
“Yes, sir. It started yesterday, but it’s still going on and the effect of that movement has reverberated throughout the European continental plate. We have never seen anything like it. It has completely changed the current flow off the coast of Scotland. It is as if someone has created a massive hole in the ocean and all the water is dumping into it.”  
That got Major’s attention. He didn’t know anything about what had actually happened, but a massive hole was completely within the skill-set of a certain young girl whom he knew.  
“General? Why are you calling me? Is there a threat to the military?”  
“Yes, sir. There is. Several of our bases in the Outer Hebrides Islands experienced sudden and dramatic drops in the ocean levels at those bases. A number of Ships were damaged severely when they were suddenly grounded. We are short a half-dozen patrol-boats as a result.”  
“Can you ask the Norwegians for help? Or the Dutch? We have agreements with them for a reason.”  
“Yes sir, we can, but we had to notify you first, before instituting those plans.”  
“You have my permission. Re-allocate assets as necessary.”  
“Yes, sir. Is there anything else, sir?”  
“Yes. Bring our eyes in the sky to a position over northwestern Scotland. Look for something new. That’s all I can tell you, but it should be sufficient.”  
“Yes, Sir. Will do.”  
“Report back to me in six hours, General. I need to know what you see.”  
“Yes, sir. Will do.”  
Major hung up the phone. “Eshe? Can you come in here for a moment?”  
Major watched her walk in and for a moment, he was caught up with her beauty. She really was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and that included his wife, unfortunately. Hlengiwe saw the look in her boss’ eyes and for a moment she had to stop and pull herself together. John Major was a very distinguished looking man and his obvious approval of her beauty felt… well, it would be impossible to say she didn’t like it. He was a Muggle, of course, and that did change things, but a man was man and being desirable was always nice.  
“I need you to get in touch with my opposite number in Diagon Alley. You know whom. I don’t know how you contact him, but I know that MI 5 & ¾ gave you a way to do that. Please reach him and tell him that I would very much appreciate a meeting as soon as he can make it possible.”  
Hlengiwe looked at him for a half a tick, worried that her deep cover had been blown, before she realized that he had no idea how the communication happened and more than that, didn’t really want to know. He had already been traumatized by what Harley Ross had done in his presence and was skittish because of it.  
“Yes, sir. I will make the call. You have an opening in your day about 3:30 this afternoon. I was going to lunch brought in about 12:15, if you’d prefer to do it then, but 3:30 is the first half-hour that’s not already booked.”  
“Sooner the better, Eshe. Tell my opposite that. Tell him that he is invited for lunch, should he choose to join me.”  
“Will do. Anything particular for lunch?”  
“Toasted ham and cheese, with some of that awesome cracked mustard that they have down in the Mess. Tell him crisps instead of chips. And when you get a chance? More of that Irish tea, please. Bring in the whole pot. I’m probably going to need it.”  
“No problem, sir. I will let your opposite know. 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**12:15 pm.**  
John Major had just looked up from the stack of paper that seemed to have multiplied on his desk when his phone buzzed. “Major here.”  
“Sir, your 12:15 is here.”  
“Thank you, Eshe, please bring him in.”  
Hlengiwe did so, and in a moment, Cornelius Fudge was standing in the Prime Minster’s office for the first time. He looked at saw the guards who were standing in each of the corners of the office, with their .45’s drawn, but held at their sides.  
“Minister? I’m John Major. Welcome to my side of the world.”  
Cornelius looked at him, removed his bowler hat and then said, “Thank you, Mr. Prime Minister. I was told that you needed to see me.”  
“First, please sit down. I’ve ordered lunch for both of us. I want to tell you that I really appreciate you coming to me. I’ve never been to your office and I confess that I would be totally lost.”  
Cornelius looked at him with surprise. It was unusual in the extreme that a politician would express weakness or the inability to do something, but… he had to admit that it was just the two of them and each of them came to this meeting with strengths the other didn’t have.  
“I know you want to know why I asked you to come and see me. I suspect, however, that you may already have some inkling of it. Two words: Harley Ross.”  
Cornelius’ eyes flared and he sucked in a deep breath – which John Major saw.  
“I thought you’d react that way, sir. Let me say that your attention to the Statute of Secrecy is admirable and your defense of your people is as well. However, I need you to be candid with me now, because some of my military people are starting to pay attention to things that are happening on your side, even if they can’t explain them. One of those things happened yesterday afternoon.”  
Cornelius bent his head and then rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment, to relieve the stress he was feeling. “Take what time you need, sir.” Major said.  
Cornelius shook his head. “No, it’s not that, Mr. Prime Minister”

“Oh, please. Call me John. We’re equals.”  
“Cornelius then.”  
“Ok. So, what is it?”  
“John, have you met Harley Ross?”  
“Yes, I have. She destroyed a hundred-million pound plane – or about… what’s the conversion? Is it five to one? Anyway…. About a 20 million Galleon item that belonged to our military to demonstrate that she could.”  
“John… please. You have to understand. Harley Ross has people scared shitless. Yesterday, she began making a three kilometer tall mountain!”  
John thought about that and then said, “Excuse me? Did you just say what I think you just said?”  
“Yes, John, I did. It was the mountain she destroyed a couple of months back. She started rebuilding that mountain! Actually made it another kilometer taller. She has magicals all over the world absolutely fucking terrified.”  
“Cornelius, I was told by someone whom I trust that Harley Ross is as close to a goddess as is possible. She can’t raise the dead, but she doesn’t know of any other limitations on her power.”  
“Well then, you understand what I’m facing. I can’t arrest her, because she hasn’t done anything to warrant it, and I can’t throw her out of the country, simply because she’s powerful, but I also can’t just ignore her.”  
“What are we going to do? My military people had boats crippled when the ocean suddenly dropped near the Outer-Hebrides.”  
Cornelius looked at him. “I can be of help for that. Apparently, she’s building the mountain by taking material from the fjord that runs up to the base of the school. She made it deeper by almost three hundred meters, running inland for more than a kilometer. All of that material she used to shape the mountain.”  
John did some quick calculations on the back of a piece of paper and almost pissed himself when he realized that Harley Ross had somehow managed to move billions of cubic meters of Earth.  
“How long did it take her?” John asked, feeling slightly sick to his stomach.  
“About…. An hour or so of continual casting? Maybe a little bit more? But the mountain is still growing.”  
“Cornelius, is there any way of getting in touch with her? My people are going to figure out what has happened, even if they can’t explain it. I will then be forced to tell a substantial number of military types what has actually happened and then swear them to life-time secrecy. Some of them are going, I am sure, to tell me to drop a nuclear weapon on the school, just to make sure that Harley is dead. Doing so would kill everything within 20 miles, by the way, and my people will count that as ‘acceptable losses’. That’s if she doesn’t get any warning. If she does, and she’s able to just up and leave, as I’ve seen her do, she may decide that wiping out London is an equal exchange. I’ve seen the meteors that she can pull down. Some of them can destroy entire countries. My military people, right now, are unaware of her true capabilities. I would really, really prefer that it stay that way, but this could spiral out of control very fast. You’ve got to get to her and tell her. Please… for all of our sakes.”  
Cornelius was really panicking at this point. “Make the area around the school off-limits, John. Tell the military that they can’t go anywhere near it. No ships, no people, nothing. Completely off-limits.”  
“Yes, I can tell them, but I don’t know where the god-damned school is.”  
Cornelius looked at him and for the first time, saw real desperation and fear - and realized that they were equal that way. “Give me a map of the area. I can tell you approximately where it is.”  
John nodded and then called his secretary for the map. Once it was on his desk, Cornelius looked at it and then pointed. “Right here. This is the area. I can’t tell you precisely, because there’s a bit of magic that makes it unplottable, but I can tell you that it’s this area. There’s a little town called Hogsmeade and it’s at the end of this train-line. Cornelius use his right index finger to point to the train line on the map. Make everything with forty kilometers of the end of this train line off limits and that will be a start. I will beg Harley to make the mountain invisible to anyone who is not magical. We will put repelling charms all over the valley, leading up to the school. No non-magical person will be able to get within a five-day walk of the school.”  
“I will do everything you ask, Cornelius. How soon can you get to Harley and Hermione?”

“Ten minutes, if I leave now.”

“Please. I’d ask you to stay for lunch, but this really can’t wait.”

“No, you’re right John. Another time?”

“Yes, please. I would like to hear the story of how you became Minister for Magic and what it’s like to do your job.”  
Cornelius knew when someone was being genuine. He could tell it with his magic, and John Major was being genuine in his. “And I would like to hear about how you got here. It’s a beautiful building. It’s even above ground, which is a novelty for me.”  
“How’s that? Where’s your office?”

Cornelius laughed. “About two thousand feet below ground. Magic, remember? We had to go down, in order to get the space we needed to operate.”

“That I’ve got to see!”

“Someday, but not today. I’ll let myself out?”

“With my thanks, Cornelius. Let me know how it goes?”

“Yes, Mr. Prime Minister.”

“Go. Thank you, Cornelius. I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

“Me to. I’ll be in touch.”

With that, Cornelius Fudge got up and walked to the door and let himself out. John Major counted out one minute before calling out to Hlengiwe, “Eshe? Can you come in please?” As always, she came in quickly. “Have a seat, Eshe. There’s much to be done and I need every one of your talents working to help resolve this situation.” She did so, demurely, and then took out her notepad and pen. Her skirt was short enough that he got a very good, albeit brief look at her knickers, which were a lovely pale-yellow. “Alright, what’s first?”

After calming his heart for a moment, He told her. Her report to the IWC would have to wait. She had the fate of an entire nation possibly in her hands and she couldn’t wait even a minute to do what needed to be done.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
**12:55 pm**  
Cornelius Fudge was now a man on a mission and he was moving as fast has his slightly corpulent body would allow him. Once he was clear of 10 Downing Street, he moved to a place where he could no longer feel Disapparation wards. The moment he was clear, he put everything he could into his Apparation. He had never tried to go as far as Hogsmeade before, but this was an emergency and he had to make the effort. He closed his eyes, focused on his destination, gathered himself, and pushed with all the determination that he could muster.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
A moment later, Cornelius Fudge re-appeared in Hogsmeade, right where he wanted to go. He checked himself over and found out that all of his pieces-parts were intact. Breathing a sigh of relief, as well as surprise, he Apparated again to the gates of Hogwarts.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that the gates were open and so he began the long walk up to the school. It was a beautiful day and he thought back to when he was a student here, so very many years ago. He had loved it then. The first World War had just ended and the world was simpler, easier. The void between Muggles and Magicals was much, much greater and the Muggles didn’t have weapons that could end the world.

  


Now he had to rescue a situation that came about, not because of malice (he was sure of that), but by misunderstanding and youthful ignorance. He had to tread lightly though. Teens with god-like powers was not a situation that he had ever expected when he had stood for election as Minister for Magic and he wasn’t sure what to say to them. Knocking on the Great Door of the school, he waited to be greeted. He didn’t have to wait long. Sirius Black himself answered the door.  
“Cornelius?”  
“Lord Black.”  
“Welcome to the school. What brings you here? We’re almost never graced by the Minister for Magic.”  
“No time to talk, Lord Black. I’ve got to see your God-daughter. Right now.”  
“May I ask why?”  
“I think you know why, Headmaster. That confounded mountain she’s building! The Muggles are going squirrely on us and the Muggle military is threatening to drop something called a Nuke on us. Says they can kill everything within twenty miles! Just so long as they kill Lady Ross, they don’t care whom-else they kill.”  
Sirius Black went pale at the thought and he could feel Hogwarts’ wards shudder around him. Closing his eyes for a moment, he focused on where his God-daughter was at the moment.  
Charms. She’s in Charms.  
“Minister? Follow me. My God-daughter is in Charms right now. We will go and find her. Take my hand.”  
Trusting that nothing could happen to him within the school’s hallowed halls, he grasped the young man’s hands and then felt the sudden pull and compression of Apparition.  
Less than two beats of the heart later, they were standing in front of a nondescript classroom door. “Wait here. I will get her.”  
Cornelius nodded his agreement. Black seemed to be taking the situation very seriously and that pleased the Minister for Magic.  
The door opened again and Sirius emerged, with both his God-daughter and his daughter-in-law in tow, since nothing happened to one without the other present.  
Harley and Hermione saw the Minister for Magic and both dropped into curtsies, as befitting the Minister’s station.  
Despite himself, he was moved when the girls did so and he kissed both of their hands in turn, recognizing Lady Ross’s station as First of the Twenty-Eight and Hermione’s status as her chosen mate.  
“We need to talk, Lady Ross, and it can’t wait.”  
Harley inclined her head. “My time is yours, Minister.”  
“Thank you. Lord Black? Will you find us a secure place to speak?”  
“Harley? You know a place, right?”  
Harley nodded. “Seventh Floor, east wing, Da. Hermione and I will meet you there.”  
“Go. Prepare.”  
Hermione and Harley closed their eyes and in a muted flash of black light, disappeared. “I never get used to that.” Sirius said.  
“I thought…”  
“Yes, Minister. I know what you thought. You’re not supposed to be able to Apparate or disapparate within Hogwarts. The only thing is… what they’re doing isn’t Apparation. It’s something completely different. I don’t know how they do it and they won’t teach me. In fact, they won’t teach any adult. Now.. they may teach you, since you’re Minister for Magic, but I apparently don’t qualify.”  
“Does Harley’s adoptive mother know?”  
“Isabelle? No, she doesn’t. Harley won’t even teach her.”  
That shocked the Minister. Withholding magic from one’s parents was something like heresy or familial disloyalty unlike anything he had ever heard of before.  
“Ready to go?”  
“Yes.”  
“Take my hand then and we’ll go.”  
Cornelius did so and a moment later, they were on the Seventh Floor, east. It was the top floor in the school, except for Sybil Trelawney’s now unused classroom.  
Hermione was standing by a door that Sirius had never seen before. “Welcome to the Room of Requirement.” She said quietly.  
Sirius looked at it. “How…. How did you find this? The Marauders looked for this room every year we were here.”  
“Oh… we asked a house-elf. Easy-peezey. They led us right to it.”  
Sirius’ jaw hit the ground. James and Lily would have been so jealous! And now, he couldn’t wait to tell Mooney about it!  
“Headmaster, time’s ticking. My opposite number needs an answer and I’ve got to get it to him.”  
Hermione ushered the two men into the room. It was set up as a comfortable meeting-space, along with a burning fire and a tea-service.  
Once everyone was seated, the Minister began. “Lady Ross, I have just come from a meeting with the muggle Prime Minister, John Major. He is… scared. What he told me is that his military is piecing together what happened yesterday and it’s going to expose our world. He said he was going to have to tell a great many people the secret and then swear them all to silence. That’s not going to hold. You’ve got to help us clean up the mess! We’ve got to hide the mountain you’re building and place muggle-repelling charms everywhere, for forty kilometers in every direction. And it can’t wait. We have less than a day to get this done. Otherwise, the Prime Minister told me that his military is going to push him to drop what he called a Nuke on the castle, to make sure you’re dead.”  
Hermione started to sob, and she clutched Harley tightly. Harley was already crying.  
“I’m so sorry… “ she said, struggling to say anything through her tears.  
Cornelius looked at the two crying girls and realized that neither had a mean bone in her body. Their reactions were genuine. He could tell that absolutely.  
Hermione looked at him, still crying, and said, “What can we do to help make it right?”  
“First, you have to hide the mountain that Harley’s building. Second, you’ve got to hide the entire valley and everything around the school, for as far as the eye can see. The Prime Minister said forty Kilometers. That’s what we’re allowed to hide. No muggles, anywhere within that area. Third, you’ve got to somehow make reparations to the muggle government. They had six ships badly damaged because the ocean suddenly fell, after you started scooping out the fjord.”  
“Hermione and I have a vault – number 17 – where we keep gold we’ve found. We have about 5,000 pounds of it collected. We can give that to them today.”  
The Minister for Magic whistled. That was a lot of money. He wasn’t sure how much, but it was a lot. “I will tell the PM that you’ve made the offer. I am sure he would welcome such a gesture.”  
“Please… Minister” Hermione was in tears. “Harley didn’t mean anything evil. Please tell him. Please?!! I love Harley so much!”  
“I know you do, child. And I know that neither of you meant wrong. This should teach you about the limits of power. You can’t just do whatever you feel like doing! There are and must be consequences. We MUST protect the Statute of Secrecy and if you don’t act to fix this, we could have a real problem… and soon.”  
“I will do whatever it takes, Minister. I’d rather give up my magic than have people hurt over this.”  
“I’m sure it won’t go that far, Lady Ross, but your feelings do you credit.”  
“I’m serious, Minister. I will do whatever it takes.”  
“Thank you, Harley. You’re a gift to magic. I don’t want to see that lost. Neither does your wife.”  
Sirius took her by the shoulders and looked down at her. “I love you. I don’t want to lose you, Harley. I swore to protect you, so we’re in this together.”  
She looked up at him and started crying again. “I love you too, Da. I love you too.”  
Cornelius looked on and realized that this was what he was missing in his life. He and his wife had never been able to have children together and his work had always kept him away from home. He wondered if that had been the best choice for his life or if he should have been paying more attention to his wife, and to family. It was something that he had always wanted and he knew that it wasn’t too late. He was only middle-aged after all and would live another 100 years or more, if he took care of himself.  
Hermione looked at him and wondered what he was thinking. He saw her looking at him and tilted his head just a fraction, as if to inquire about her interest. “Just wondering what you’re thinking, Minister.”  
“About children and family, mostly. Speaking of which, I need to go. The PM wants my reply asap.”  
She smiled at him. “I can take you there right now.”  
“Can you really?”  
She rolled her eyes at him. “Anything Harley can do, I can do. Let’s go.”  
“Well, let’s go then.”  
Hermione went over, gave Harley a kiss on the mouth, right in front of Sirius, and then went back and took the Minister’s hand. “Close your eyes, Minister. You’d not like how you’d feel if you opened them.”  
“Tell me when then.”  
“Alright…. Now.”  
In a moment, the Minister for Magic felt something shift. It was subtle, but real. When he opened his eyes again, they were standing in the PM’s office.  
There was the sound of cocking hammers on pistols and then the sound of people falling over.  
Hermione looked around and smiled and it wasn’t an entirely pleasant smile. “Your guards will wake up in an hour or three, Mr. Prime Minister.”  
“Was that necessary, Hermione?”  
“Oh… probably. It will teach them a lesson, if nothing else. Your guards always think they’re the very best. The best trained, yada, yada, yada. Besides… it’s just a flesh wound.”  
John Major looked at her and resisted the temptation to face-palm. Monty Python had no place in the office of the Prime Minister… right? And anyway, he couldn’t argue with the fact that his protective detail did think it was the very best. Having them know that there was always someone more powerful around would help to keep them grounded.  
Hermione turned to Cornelius. “Minister? I’m going to leave now. You going to be alright?”  
He nodded. “I can get home from here easy. Thanks for the lift.”  
“No problem, Sir. Happy to do it.” With that, she faded into black light and disappeared. 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
**Just after dawn, Wednesday, April 21st, 1993 - North shore of Lake Monetjørna, Norway**

Crookshanks watched the old woman pick up her wand and look at it. There was a deeply sad look in her eyes. Soon, he thought. The woman was frail and he knew instinctively that she would pass this day. Sitting in a patch of early-morning sun, Crookshanks watched her point her stick towards the sun and watched something white stream from its tip. Then she set it down, before looking at him. “My time has come, Crooks. Time for one last change. Tell your Mistress that I loved her and that I was proud of what she had accomplished.”  
“Meroooow” Crookshanks called. He knew the time was very soon.  
Lady Minerva Catherine McGonagall, winner of many awards for Valour, teacher of thousands, and wife to three men over her one hundred and (almost) thirty years, looked around one last time before she became a cat for the last time, laying down next to Crookshanks and, after a moment, softly breathing her last.  
Five hundred miles away, a young woman received a Patronus-message and then collapsed in tears.  


An old man in ragged prisoner’s garb, in a single cell high up in an island prison, whose eyes no longer twinkled, received the same. He, too, collapsed in tears, but his were of angry regrets, unfulfilled plans, and feelings of betrayal and not the pure tears of a young girl who knew how much she owed to the woman, now gone, who had been her first magical mentor and the one to introduce her to the world of magic.

  
It didn’t take long for word to leave Hogwarts and seek its way out, into the world. When it was received, wherever it went, everything seemed to stop. The tears that flowed were deeper and even more profound then those that had been shed for James and Lily Potter, since the Lady McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, had touched many, many thousands.  


In the Ministry for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic struggled against tears as he made his way out into the great Hall of Magic. With a clap of his hands and wielding magic that he didn’t know he had, changed all of the flags in the hall to the Black of mourning, before quietly turning and walking to a central point in the Hall. Magnifying his voice, so that he could be heard, he said, “We have lost a great witch today. Minerva Catherine McGonagall was loved by many here. We will mourn the loss of our sister and our friend for seven days. At the end of that time, we will gather at Hogwarts and lay her to rest, on the grounds of the school she loved so well. As for today, work is cancelled. Go home to your families and mourn the loss of a beloved woman.”

He watched for a moment as people appeared completely shattered. Several groups of women gathered and Cornelius could hear them crying. Everywhere he looked, there were wizards and witches struggling with the news that one of the most respected women in the magical United Kingdom had passed on.  
Making his way back to the lift that led to his private office, he considered what effect Minerva’s passing was going to have and what they were going to have to do to find someone equally as qualified. Transfiguration Mistresses were not exactly a dime-a-dozen and Battle Witches like Minerva were even rarer. She had been a power in her time as to make the dark forces tremble. Even the vaunted Bellatrix Lestrange had always been deeply afraid of her – and that was saying something indeed, given how far gone Bellatrix had been into the dark arts.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
**Early afternoon, on the far side of the Forbidden Forest, nine miles south of Hogwarts - Wednesday, April 21st >**  
Hermione Dagworth-Ross wandered the woods, looking for good places to install the anti-muggle wards that were a part of the promise that she and Harley had made to the Minister for Magic. She was being followed, she was pretty much sure, but a surly bunch of Centaurs; ones who hadn’t made peace with the school and were in a mood to fight. She was also being followed by one or more wizards, and she knew she was going to have to do something about them at some point, but her main priority was getting the ward-line fixed in place.  
As a general rule, the wards had to be woven every three hundred yards, which meant she had to do it fifty times per mile, which really kind of sucked. There had to be a better way, but she was so inexperienced in ward-creation that she didn’t know any short-cuts. As she walked along, her foot caught in a vine that stuck up from the ground and it took her a moment to free herself from it. Then she looked at it and an idea came to her. Smiling, she pulled up a long bit of the vine and realized that there was more than one way to skin a cat. Grabbing her broom from her pocket, she enlarged it and flew up, into the sky, to a point about 100 feet above the forest. She was out of range for any of her pursuers, but not bullets, which she knew could kill her, so she hardened shields around her body and pressed on. She had to get the wards established or else there could be hell to pay.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**  


Two hours later, her portion of the wards were done. She had configured a sixty-mile (90 kilometer) stretch by growing one continuous vine that ran the perimeter of “their” land – the land acceded to Hogwarts and to the magicals, in order to protect the secret existence of the mountain which Harley had created. Once the vine had finished growing, which went much faster than she had expected, she enchanted the whole thing, to create an anti-muggle barrier three hundred yards across. The plan that she had devised for securing the area called for crisscrossing wards, almost like a lattice-worked pie, so that no one area would be without substantial anti-muggle protections. By the time she had finished the work, she was nine miles north of Hogwarts as the crow flew and turning for home. That’s when the bolt came out of nowhere. “Fuck!” Hermione swore, as the bolt – she didn’t know if it had been metal or magic – tore through the back of her broomstick and just barely missed her. This put her into an almost instant downward fall, from five hundred feet up. Doing the only thing she could think of, she closed her eyes and disappeared. When she opened them, she was still falling, but she knew what she had to do and this began one of the more improbable series of conjurations that Hogwarts had ever recorded.

  
The first attempt failed, but her second attempt created a set of wings that she could control using her hands. The third conjuration created a massive airbag on the Hogwarts grounds. The forth doubled the size of the airbag and made a big X in the middle. There was no need of a fifth, because she landed, butt-first, right in the middle of the X. Looking around, she realized that she had survived and that, other than a broken broom, she was perfectly alright. Then she started to giggle. If I had planned that, it might actually have been fun. Her giggling stopped when she realized that someone had tried to kill her.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
In the woods, several miles away, two wizards looked at each other. It was clear that their mission had failed and that their lives were now in jeopardy. The were just about to disapparate when a girl appeared in front of them. She had curly brown hair, brown eyes, and was holding a wand. “You missed.”  
The two wizards, both dressed in combat fatigues, looked at her and started to panic. They hadn’t been told what to do if caught, since it was assumed that they wouldn’t be. “Well, gentlemen, you’re going to tell me why you tried to kill me and who sent you, or I’m going to take both of you back to my wife. You don’t want that. Harley is very protective of me and she will most likely torture you for the fun of it, irrespective of whether you tell her anything. You’re both going to die, so the question is whether I do it here and now, after you tell me what I want to know, or you die slowly, over a period of days, while Harley works out her anger issues.”  
Panicking, they both tried to Apparate away and realized that they couldn’t go anywhere.  
Hermione shook her head. She was going to have to do this the hard way, it seemed, and she didn’t have a lot of time to waste. With a thought, she stripped both of them. “Now gentlemen, you’ve realized that you can’t get away. You’ve also realized that you’re going to die. Good. At least we understand one another. Now, I’m going to reduce your masculinity. Then we can talk.”  
With that, Hermione ignited her sword and walked forward.

The men screamed. A lot. They cried. Then screamed some more. When they were on the verge of passing out, she revived them. “Now, usually Harley doesn’t allow people to live this long. She doesn’t have the patience for it. Now, you’re going to tell me who sent you. If you don’t, I’m going to cut you in half. Slowly. We clear on that?” Hermione wasn’t entirely sure that she would actually cut them in half. It seemed pretty barbaric, but she knew a good threat when she heard one. Besides, penises could be re-grown, right?

The men started sobbing, which completely set her off. She started cutting off their toes. Those she knew could be re-grown, so she wasn’t too fussed about it. When they were at the point of being wide-eyed with terror, and after shitting themselves because of the pain, Hermione was about to put them out of their misery. “Tell me who sent you!”  
The wizard on the left screamed out, “Sir Peter Inge!” and then died.  
Hermione looked at the other wizard. “He was telling the truth?” The man struggled against what was apparently a magical vow, before nodding once. He died too. Screaming out her frustration, Hermione cut their heads off. She had some things to deliver and a now had name of her intended recipient. 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
**UK Office of the Chief of the General Staff - Marlborough Lines, Hampshire, UK – thirty minutes later.**

Hermione walked through the front gate of the Army base, invisible and undetectable. She didn’t have time to fuck around with guards and ID’s and that crap, so she passed by, without so much as a whisper. When she got to the main administrative building, she walked through the doors undetected, up to the map on the wall which showed the layout of the building, and then down the proper hallway. It wasn’t until she was almost at the office of the Chief of the General Staff that she felt an intent-based ward. Not a well-done ward, but a ward none-the-less. Reaching out with her magic, she absorbed the ward, causing it to fail. It was much easier than trying to knock it down, but only if you had the skill and the power to absorb the magic. Being an Arch-magus helped with that.  
The hallway was adorned with pictures of the Chief of the General staff, current and past, and the places that he been to as a general. Then she saw a picture of John Major. That gave Hermione an idea.  
Slipping in the door to Peter Inge’s office, Hermione looked around. There were bound to be guards about. She saw two immediately, and felt the presence of a third. That had to be a wizard. She stunned him with her hardest stunner, which she had confidence would put the man out for many hours. Then she saw the ‘regular’ military guards. She stunned them too, but somewhat more gently. Muggles were fragile creatures.  
Having dealt with all of the perceived threats, Hermione strode into Inge’s office. He was sitting behind his desk, speaking on the phone. She waited for him to finish before making herself visible.  
“Who… who are you?”  
“I’m your nightmare, you asshole. You tried to have me killed, so I’m going to drag your ass to John Major and you can explain it to him.”  
He looked at her, not completely understanding what she was talking about. He didn’t have time to come to the right conclusion when she stunned him and dragged him along with her during the short hop to John Major’s office.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

There were three people in John Major’s office when Hermione suddenly appeared, with the Chief of the General staff in tow. She stunned everybody in the room, save for the PM himself. That included the guards who had been present.  
“Lady Dagworth-Ross, what brings you here? And why do you have my Chief of the General Staff with you?  
“This asshole tried to have me killed.” She reached into her pocket and brought out two small boxes, which she enlarged on his desk.  
“Do I want to know what’s in the boxes?”  
“Depends. Have you eaten yet?”  
Her response almost made him sick to his stomach. Hermione wasn’t smiling. She waved a hand at Peter Inge and then she kicked him in the nuts. He woke up with a start and then doubled over in pain.  
Major watched, unable or unwilling to interfere. Her callous treatment of the man made him furious, but he knew that if she said that he had tried to have her killed, she most likely wasn’t lying… and he really didn’t want to look in the boxes. The smell they were giving off was nauseating enough to make him suspect, strongly, what they contained and he really didn’t want to contribute to the contents of the box, for his predecessor as it were, if it came to it.

Finally, Major had had enough and said sharply, “That’s enough! Wake him up."

Then Major saw something that made his skin crawl. Hermione’s eyes lit up, like two huge brown gems. “Don’t fucking take that tone with me, Muggle. I can turn you into a cockroach and step on you. This asshole ordered these two shits to try to kill me. Whether that was on your order or on his own, they’re dead. Don’t fucking do it again or the next time we meet will be your last, are we clear?”

He looked at her, angrier than he had ever been and desperately wanting to lash out at her. That’s when he banged into one of the boxes and jarred loose the lid. The dead eyes looked up at him from a pool of clotted blood. The PM had no choice but to nod and say, “Yes, perfectly clear.”  
Hermione looked at him and at the Chief of the General Staff. “Tell him that if I ever get wind of his machinations again, I will find him, and pain will be the least of his problem.”  
Major nodded again. The bile rising in the back of his throat. “I will tell him.”  
“Good. For his sake and for yours.” With that, she disappeared.  
“Eshe!”

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
Hlengiwe M’Bala never expected to break cover. Certainly not in John Major’s presence, since there was no way that he’d otherwise be able to detect her magic. However, cleaning up other people’s shit was something that she had been told might happen. It wasn’t usually grounds for breaking cover, but there are always extenuating circumstances.  
John Major’s strangled, pleading voice was something that she had never heard before and it caused her to move with alacrity into his office. “I need your help, Eshe.”  
“What in God’s name?” she gasped.  
“Lady Dagworth came bearing these.” And he pointed to the two boxes. “She said they’re… well, look for yourself, if you’ve not eaten.”  
Hlengiwe was made of pretty stern stuff, considering her training, but the contents of the two boxes almost broke her composure. It took her several long moments to gather herself, after backing off, so that the smell wasn’t quite as in-her-face as it had been when she bent over to peer into the boxes.  
“I… oh fuck. I never thought I’d have to do this, Boss. It’s best if you close your eyes for a moment.”

He looked at her, not understanding what she was saying. By way of explanation, she reached down and pulled up the edge of her skirt. Slowly. Far too slowly for it to have been considered “decent”. It was shameful, really, but she enjoyed every moment of it and she was pretty sure he did too. There, strapped to her thigh, was an elegant wand, made of an unidentifiable material. Her having done so also gave him a wonderful, thorough look at her body, a sight to which he struggled not to react… but he couldn’t help it. “Ohhhhhhhh.” He moaned quietly. It was far too quiet a room for her not to hear his reaction and it was all too personal a situation for her not to have a little fun with it. That meant leaving her skirt hiked up, so that she was exposed to his gaze.  
He didn’t even need to say, “So you’re a witch?”  
She saw the question in his eyes and, acknowledging it said, “Yes, and unfortunately, I have to make you forget that fact in a moment. However, right now, I need to deal with these.” She pointed to the boxes.  
“Please.” He said; wanting nothing more than to get rid of the stench.  
With a wave of her wand, the boxes shimmered and then disappeared in a flash of magic. Turning to really face him, she said, “Unfortunately, that leaves two headless wizard’s bodies out there, somewhere. That will make recognition that much harder, if the bodies are ever found that is.”  
His wits came back to him somewhat and he said, “Not our problem, Eshe.”  
She looked at him and thought about it for a long moment before saying, “I’m sorry that I have to do what I’m about to do John. If anyone could be trusted with my identity, it’s you, but I have orders that I can’t ignore.”  
“I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. What about him?” He asked, pointing to the Chief of the General Staff.  
“Fire him. He really was freelancing and Hermione’s not kidding. If she comes back here because you’ve threatened her or Harley, she’ll kill you, dump your body outside, on Downing Street, and there’s not a blessed thing I can do to stop her.”  
“Even if you wanted to?”  
“No. She’d bat me out of the way like a fly, John. You wouldn’t know this, but I’m just not anywhere near her power.”  
“Well, that’s frustrating. Ok. So… do what you have to. I’m just sorry that I won’t remember.”  
“Which part?” She giggled.

He immediately understood to what she was referring – her skirt was still hiked up to her hip, after all. He said, smiling sheepishly, “I’m male, Eshe, and you’re unspeakably beautiful. How could I not want to remember that?” His eyes flicked downward to the gorgeous expanse of naked thigh and hip.  
She looked at him, before sashaying a couple of steps forward, so that she was in his personal space, “You really think so?”  
“Truth, Eshe. If there’s a woman, anywhere, more beautiful than you, I’ve never seen her. Venus de Milo and all the rest have nothing on you.”  
His soft, genuinely spoken words touched her… in a number of places, and so she reached out a hand and put it on his chest, palm spread. “well then, maybe we’ll have to find a way for you to see me in my dance-clothes… or my bikini.”  
“Eshe? Lose the skirt and I’d die a happy man.”  
She smiled at him and winked. “I’ll remember that.” 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

John Major looked at his desk and the pile of work that it held, now that he had dismissed his Chief of the General Staff. It had been satisfying in the extreme and incredibly cathartic to vent on him, given how perilous the situation was that his actions had created. “You’ve disgraced the government and you’ve endangered us all. You had your orders and you saw fit to disregard them. For those reasons, you are dismissed, now get out.”  
The look he remembered on Hermione’s face as she dressed him down for allowing one of his people to try to kill her haunted him. He remembered her saying, “Tell him that if I ever get wind of his machinations again, I will find him, and pain will be the least of his problem.”  
The rest of the morning was foggy at best. He knew it had been a bad day and he really just wanted to put it behind him. In that, Eshe had been a god-send. She had kept him plied with tea and had ordered a hot lunch for him that had really hit the spot. He was incredibly grateful for her presence. She made his life so much easier!

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	7. Dawn's New Light - Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Minister for Magic learns new magic, a heroine is laid to rest, and a Queen makes a command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

****

**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 7  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com**

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**From Chapter six….**

John Major looked at his desk and the pile of work that it held, now that he had dismissed his Chief of the General Staff. It had been satisfying in the extreme and incredibly cathartic to vent on him, given how perilous the situation was that his actions had created. “You’ve disgraced the government and you’ve endangered us all. You had your orders and you saw fit to disregard them. For those reasons, you are dismissed. Now get out.”  
The look he remembered on Hermione’s face as she dressed him down for allowing one of his people to try to kill her haunted him. He remembered her saying, ““Tell him that if I ever get wind of his machinations again, I will find him, and pain will be the least of his problem.” It was not going to sit well with him, since he knew that she wasn’t just capable of following through with her threat, but completely inclined to carry it out as well, having already killed several times.  
The rest of the morning was foggy at best. He knew it had been a bad day and he really just wanted to put it behind him. In that, Eshe had been a god-send. She had kept him plied with tea and had ordered a hot lunch for him that had really hit the spot. He was incredibly grateful for her presence. She made his life so much easier!  


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**Hogwarts - Thursday, April 22nd**

Harley Ross walked the perimeter of the great fjord that she had created. It was several thousand feet deep at its center now and the Kraken that lived in the fjord now had a much bigger home. The mountain that she had built towered over the valley, casting a shadow as the sun circled it throughout the day.  
The whole valley now hummed with a massive, vibrant, anti-muggle barrier. It extended three miles out to sea, and forty kilometers, north and south of the fjord, as well as thirty-eight miles south of Hogsmeade. All in all, it was the biggest magical area in all of Europe. Instead of doing what Hermione had done, which was incredibly clever (she’d expected no less of her wife), Harley had planted massive diamonds, inscribed with runes and charged with her blood, at key points all along the perimeter of the warded area. It had been exhausting to build and at one point, she had passed out, after charging one of the stones. She had given a huge amount of blood to charge the stones and, combined with the fact that she had just finished her period, left her feeling weak.  
Hogsmeade was going to grow now. That was for certain. There was no need to keep some of the smaller magical shopping areas in London if a place as massive as Hogsmeade was available. She already had a home planned out since, as the Lady Ross, she owned a great deal of the land within the expanded magical area.  
Was what they had done enough though? That was the question. She had warded the mountain five ways to Sunday. If you weren’t magical… good luck seeing it. She had even blocked it against photographic satellites, by making the mountain appear just like its background. It wasn’t a perfect defense, but it was close. She couldn’t do anything about the effect of gravity or hide the magnetic anomaly that the mountain represented (and she thanked God that her mother had taught her about those subjects, along with her magical learning) but visually, you’d be hard-pressed to ever find the mountain. The only thing that she couldn’t change was the weather, and it bugged her. She couldn’t help the winds that circled around the top of the mountain, nor could she prevent the shadow that the mountain cast as the sun circled around it. Well… that wasn’t completely true. She could, but it wasn’t worth the effort magically. Tinkering like that could have knock-on effects that were unpredictable and she didn’t know enough (yet) to do so.  
The one thing she was really proud of though was the size of the ward, as it extended out into the ocean. No muggle vessel, civilian or military, could get within three kilometers without being affected. That would protect everyone in the fjord itself, since there was an isthmus between the fjord proper and the ocean. It would allow Hogwarts students to continue to fly all over the fjord and allow the dragons what would be transferred to the area to breed and fly, unhindered.  
The area was quiet, save for the calling of the occasional raven and her own foot-falls. That didn’t mean she was alone though. She knew that her house-elves were all about, watching out for her. “Dobby?” she called out.  
Out of nowhere, Dobby appeared. He liked not making noise when he came and went. It set him apart from all other house-elves. He was, after all, Harley’s personal elf, and he had to be stronger and better than all the rest. And he was. Being bonded to an Arch-magus made him practically vibrate with magical power. “I’m here, Mistress.”  
She reached out for him, pulling him into a hug, before saying, “Who’s with Hermione?”  
“Winky’s with her, Mistress. And about fifty of her brothers and sisters. She’s never alone. I remember your words. Hermione be most important.”  
Harley smiled at him. “You’ve got it. There’s nothing more important to me than her.”  
“Dobby knows it, Mistress. You’d give your life to protect her.”  
“Just like I’d protect you, Dobby.” She said softly.  
The Malfoy’s former elf looked at her and she could see his eyes tearing up. He didn’t how to take that. “Dobby doesn’t deserve Mistresses’ love.”  
“Oh yes you do! You’re family!” Harley said ferociously. “I’d do anything to protect you! NO ONE HURTS MY DOBBY!”  
The house-elves all around them, who were invisible, quivered with awe and pride. No one had ever declared such love and devotion to a house-elf. “Dobby loves Mistress too” He said, even though it was a struggle for him to get the words out, through his tears of happiness.  
She smiled at him, and reached out to stroke his ears. “I know. My every day is better because of you, Dobby.”  
“You be doing good for lots, Mistress. The school is much safer now because of you. Dobby be thinking that magicals don’t deserve all that you’ve done.”  
“Maybe so, Dobby. Maybe so, but I screwed up and I had to fix it. I got lucky that fixing it happened to work out to everyone’s benefit. I want it to benefit house-elves too. I own a bunch of land around here you know. I want house-elves to have their own town, or village, where they can build homes and make their own lives.”  
Dobby thought about that and was silent for a long while, given how talkative he usually was. Finally he said, “Mistress, Dobby is not sure that house-elves would be knowing what to do with that much space. Elves be needing the magic of witches and wizards in order to be healthy.”  
Harley thought about that as they walked. She really didn’t know much about elf-magic and the symbiotic relationship portion of that magic was something about which she knew nothing. That didn’t mean, however, that she was stupid. She looked at Dobby and said, “You mean that in order for you to be healthy, you have to be in a bond with a witch or wizard?”  
“Dobby knows only that elves be getting sick and dying if they’re not in a bond. Dobby is lucky! Mistress is the most powerful witch on Earth.”  
“Dobby? Do you mean that the stronger I am, the stronger you are?”  
“Yes, Mistress. Dobby’s more powerful than any other elf except Winky. Winky has Mistress ‘Mione’s magic. She be powerful too.”  
Harley rolled her eyes. She knew how powerful Hermione was. While she was raw power and brute force, Hermione’s magic was subtle, but unyielding, unrelenting, and irresistible.  
“Dobby? Who’s the most powerful wizard?”  
“Master Albus… he was powerful. But now? I be thinking young Neville be very powerful. Master Hiro Ito be terrifying too. He’s a snake-man. Very, very old, but powerful.”  
“Anyone else?”  
“Dobby be hearing about other strong wizards, but no one like Master Albus or the Dark Lord. Headmaster Sirius is a very powerful wizard, but you’s being the strongest magical person.”  
Intuitively, Harley knew that, but… to be told by someone else, someone whom she trusted implicitly, that she was the most powerful person alive was still quite something. Yes, she wielded magic almost casually, but that was because she could feel magic. It was alive, feral, strong, and there were times when she could almost taste it. Everything had magic. There was nowhere she could go where it wasn’t present. In the trees, in the ground, in the ocean… just everywhere.  
When she was making love with Hermione, the magic was so strong that it made her want to cry, or at least to scream or something. Hermione’s magic sang to her. When they touched, there was such power to it that it was almost overwhelming. When they kissed… oh my God. There was never a time when kissing Hermione didn’t make her wet with need.  
“Dobby? Where is Hermione now?”  
“She be teaching the firsties”  
That didn’t surprise her. Hermione spent a great deal of time teaching, when she herself wasn’t studying. “Where’s my Da?”  
“He be with Ms. Isabelle in his room.”  
Harley didn’t have to follow that line of inquiry any further. Her mother and her God-father were as amorous as any couple could be and were often making nookie in the afternoon. Speaking of which… Harley closed her eyes and disappeared.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Hermione was just finishing up with her afternoon class. Somehow, Charms and Defense against the Dark Arts had been ceded to her and Harley for their instruction. She wasn’t sure how that had happened, but she was drawing a salary equivalent to that of an adjunct professor – at least that’s what the letter had said when it had appeared one afternoon in early February. Harley’s had as well, but somehow Harley had been made an adjunct professor of Transfiguration and Defense against the Dark Arts, for the third and fourth-year students. She wasn’t sure how that happened, since Remus Lupin was more than qualified to teach the difference classes. But… when a magical school building decides that you need to teach, it’s easiest to just go along with it.  
Harley’s classes were progressing nicely, once she had beaten then into compliance with certain rules. The first was that using wands was for amateurs. The second was that words were a crutch and unnecessary. Not only did they warn your opponent about what you were about to do, but they slowed your casting down by more than 90%. The third, and this was hard to teach without a certain amount of destruction, was that the best defense was a good offense. That is how Li Qui had destroyed the European Open Invitational Champion. She took the fight to him.  
There were, of course, things that Harley was never going to show her students. She was there to teach them to defend themselves, not commit wholesale slaughter. She didn’t want to be accused of creating murderers. It was enough that they could Apparate in a way that wasn’t trackable and could get through any ward. That was something that no adult could do and she hoped that, so long as they had that ability, there wouldn’t be a circumstance in which they found themselves that they couldn’t get out of.  
Hermione felt her wife’s magic before she saw her. It was hard no to. When you’re in the presence of a giant star, you know it and there’s no way to resist it. Not that she wanted to resist Harley. In fact, resisting her was the very last thing she wanted to do. Rather, she wanted to run into her arms, strip naked, and let Harley have her way with her.  
“Hmmmm. I love you.”  
“Love you too. We have two hours. Take me to bed and fuck me.”  
Harley leaned in close and kissed Hermione’s neck. “You read my mind.”  
“Got your stuff?”  
Hermione nodded. She didn’t want to waste even a single second. The sooner she was naked and in Harley’s arms, the better.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
10 minutes later, Hermione Ross was indeed naked, entwined in her wife’s arms. The deep green eyes that had pitched her onto the road of falling in love with Harley held her attention, as did the hand that was clutching her ass and pulling her close.  
“I love you so much, Hermione. You really are my everything” she said, touching her forehead to Hermione’s.  
Their magic was weaving in and out of them and each other, such that the looked like some kind of living, moving tartan – but no one could see it, because their curtains were drawn tight. Not that no one could feel their magic moving. Lavender Brown had just entered the suite when she heard the distinct sounds of a girl about to crash over the edge of orgasm. It was like lightning. You see the light before you hear the sound of it. Only, this time, it was the waves of sex-magic that caught hit her right where it counted. She was lucky to be able to grab hold of one of the corners of her bed as she rode out her own, sympathetic orgasm; one that was completely unexpected, yet no less pleasurable. Oh fuck! If they can make me cum without even touching me…. Lavender thought as she made her way onto her bed.  
There was no time for decorum. She pulled up her skirt and pushed her hand down, into her pink cotton G-string panties, desperate for another release like the one she had just experienced. While Hermione’s birthday was September 19th, Lavender’s was October 9th, so she too was a late, and therefore slightly older admittant to Hogwarts. That meant that Lavender was about at the same place physically as Hermione: just over 13 & ½ and horny as hell.  
One of the great things that Hermione had done for Lavender, in order to keep the hormones at bay was to introduce her, like she had done for most all of the others in their cohort, to sex toys – the kind that her mother had sent in her ‘care package’. Lavender’s favorite was the 6” long, life-like glass dildo that Hermione had given her. She also appreciated what Hermione had said about it, which was something that her mother had taught her: “Learning how to love yourself is really important. Find out what feels good for you, first, before you do anything else.”  
Lavender also knew that she couldn’t get through the day without a good cum. It took the pressure and stress off. What she hadn’t expected was for her roommates’ magic to do it for her!  
“Ohhhhhhhhh. God.” So caught up was she as she slipped the dildo into her pussy that she didn’t hear Parvati enter the room. She didn’t hear the beautiful Indian girl undress and she most definitely didn’t hear her slip two fingers into her own sex, as she took in the show that Lavender was putting on.  
It was only when the bed sagged a bit and two silky, wet fingers found her clit that Lavender realized that she had company. She opened her eyes with a start. Parvati’s fingers caressed her clit, moving in circles, while the beautiful Indian girl looked down at her. “Hi. I saw you and thought maybe you’d like some help….. ?”  
Lavender had lusted after Parvati since arriving at Hogwarts and wasn’t about to pass up a chance to be intimate with her. There wasn’t a chance in hell that she was going to pass up an opportunity that had literally crawled into her lap.  
“I’d love it… now, please don’t stop!”  
Parvati could feel how wet Lavender’s pussy was and she loved the sound of the dildo moving in and out of her.  
Leaning close, Parvati said, “I’m not going to stop, sweetie. I’m going to make you cum. Then you can lick my pussy… “  
Lavender’s eyes lit up. While she wasn’t sure about how she felt about boys yet, she knew that girls were delicious… 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
**Two hours later….**

Hermione Ross woke up slowly, but quite pleasurably. One of Harley’s hands was cupping her breast and the other was caressing her sex. Separately, the toy in her ass was moving of its own accord, due to the magic in it. She had never expected that a toy in her bum could feel so good, but this one did. Growing, contracting, vibrating… it did it all and it kept her wet and horny every time she put it in, which was more often than not.  
Sometimes, she’d put a glass dildo in her pussy as well. Those days were a challenge, because it was always hard to concentrate when the toys were moving and vibrating inside her. Harley loved those days, because Hermione was always more ‘handsy’ and sexually needy.  
They also had an agreement that kept things fun. Each would pick out the panties that the other had to wear for the day, no matter how wicked or skimpy. Hermione favored seeing Harley in very tiny G-string panties while Harley favored seeing Hermione in backless panties or, when she was feeling particularly wicked, Parvati’s silk panties (which Parvati happily lent), or the ones that the girls bought for Hermione as a birthday gift.  
Hermione stretched out a little bit before pushing back into Harley. Her pussy was sopping wet because of Harleys’ ministrations and her nipples were rock-hard because of how turned on she was.  
It didn’t take long for Hermione to tumble into another orgasm, which made her want to taste her wife’s sex and to feel a hot tongue in her own.  
“Lick me! Eat my pussy!” she gasped; gripping Harley’s hips and pulling her around so they were in a 69.  
Harley was more than happy to oblige. She was a hot, horny mess and the Ben-Wa balls in her sex were driving her crazy. Not that she minded! She had learned that she loved whispering dirty thoughts in Hermione’s ear while feeling her up and she loved walking around the school with the balls moving in her pussy. It was wicked, dirty, delicious feeling and it made her feel powerful and sexy.  
It was, of course, very unusual (to the point of being illegal) for 13 - 15-yr. old girls to be as sexualized, but that was only true for Muggle girls. Not so for magical girls. Witches began, very early on, learning how to wield awesome, sometimes devastating mystical powers and the reality was that their bodies and minds had to keep up with that. The outflow of that development was sexual desires and sexual activities. There was just no way around it. Hermione’s parents had come to terms with it, as had ever other set of parents of muggle-born girls. They didn’t like it, but they dealt with it.  
The boys felt it too, but the plain, biological truth was that boys’ bodies changed less, much less really, than girls bodies did. As Muggle doctors knew, it was three days to study male hormones and five weeks to study female hormones.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

When their next alarm went off, it was dark outside. 5:30 pm. The magic told Harley. She shook Hermione’s shoulder gently. “Hey, love. It’s half-six. Time to get up so that we can go to dinner.”  
“Hmmmmmm. Have Winky bring dinner up. I don’t want to get up.”  
Harley giggled. “Don’t be that way. We’re expected at dinner and besides, if you’re a good girl, I’ll make you cum before desert.”  
That perked up Hermione’s ears and she slid out of their bed. “C’mon. Let’s shower and then get dressed.”  
Harley was already naked and she took her wife’s hand and led her into the shower stall, which was warm, wet, and safe. Soon, they were joined by Lavender and Parvati and the experience became decidedly handsy. The girls would end up being slightly late for dinner.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Somehow, everyone got through the days that followed. They knew that Minerva McGonagall’s funeral service was going to be sad, and it was cathartic, after a fashion, to go about their daily routines because it allowed them to focus on the moment instead of focusing on what was coming. Also, no one quite knew how many people would be coming to celebrate Minerva’s life. As it was, more than five hundred elves were pressed into service, along with students from Hogwarts, the London School of Magic, and the Dublin College of Magic. By the time all was said and done, a cathedral of wood and stone had risen to take the place of the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts. It would house 10,000 people comfortably for the funeral service.  
Sirius was furiously adjusting the wards so that the school itself was protected, but the grounds could be opened up a bit. Given the threats against the school and against his God-daughter and daughter-in-law, he wasn’t taking chances.  
Narcissa Malfoy had been the one to see to it that the Lady Alison Elliot, a Hogwarts-educated witch and former head of the Free Church of Scotland, would preside over the funeral service. She was a tall, powerful witch whose faith ran deep and whose devotion to lifting up the faithful was strong. Narcissa was a newly re-energized believer, now that Lucius’ Dark-mark was gone and they were free to return to the faith of their childhoods. They had promised themselves and Draco to take Samhain, Yule, Candlemas, Beltane and Litha particularly seriously, since those were the major holidays.  
Hermione and Harley, for their parts, had brought clothiers to the school to make sure that everyone was kited out properly, in order to show dignified respect to Minerva’s passing.  
The girls would all be turned out in black linen dresses, lined with thick black silk. Each would wear a sash indicating their house, and each sash would be wrapped in a black band, signifying mourning.  
The boys would all wear black shirts and slacks, black wool cloaks, that had their family sigils, wrapped with a black sash, also to indicate mourning. Harley and Hermione, as the only Arch-magi on the planet, would wear grey wool cloaks over their black dresses. The grey cloaks would have their house-sigils, done in silver, wrapped in black mourning bands. The teachers would all wear cloaks of Minerva’s McGonagall tartan, set off with black sashes. The public was invited to wear ‘appropriate clothing’.  
Amelia, for her part, brought every possible Auror back to active service for the 48 hours prior to and during the service, so that there would be no disruptions. The French would send an honor-guard to stand watch, as would the Germans, the Norwegians, the Dutch, and the Americans. It would constitute the largest peace-time gathering of magical police ever assembled.

**{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

  
**Sunday, April 25th – Office of the Prime Minister**

John Major had just about had it with the job. There was nothing worse than being forced to come into the office on a Sunday, because the job itself never slept and there was never enough time to address all of the concerns that rose to the level of the PM’s office. This day brought its own challenge: The funeral for Dame Minerva Catherin McGonagall.  
As he looked through her jacket (something that every war veteran had), he saw that she had been awarded not only the Victoria Cross for her actions against Grindelwald, but America’s Congressional Medal of Honor, the Order of Merlin (First Class), for her actions during the Bombing of London, and the Légion d'honneur for her efforts in saving the lives of countless thousands of Parisians during the Invasion of France. His jaw dropped. He had literally never met anyone who had been so decorated.  
“Eshe!” he called out… and then gnashed his teeth. Hlengiwe was out today because it was Sunday and because he hadn’t bothered to call her to ask her to come in. Fuck! He thought to himself. He was going to have to wait until the morning to get in touch with the Minister for Magic. He wished, and not for the first time, that there was no Minister for Magic, or magic at all. It made his life just that much more complicated, as well as dangerous. Those two god-damned girls. What merciful God created such a pair as them? Either one could pull meteors out of space that were society-ending or they could destroy a single facility or do a half-dozen other things that would make your life shorter and more unpleasant.  
The thing that bothered him though, the thing that really rubbed him raw was the very thing that he was least proud of acknowledging: That both girls were vastly his superior, in power, in control, for surely one to have exquisite control to create an entire mountain and not make a complete hash of it, and in courage.  
Moreover, they had both faced death and walked away from the experience no worse for wear. And if there were one more thing? It was that they had the power of a goddess and neither seemed at all corrupted by it. How did someone resist? He knew his own soul well enough to know that he couldn’t be trusted with that kind of power, nor could any many he knew. The quote from Lord Acton came to mind: “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”  
Puttering around his office for another half-hour, Major decided to call it a day and go home. He was just about to close his briefcase when a small person, with really big ears, eyes the size of golf-balls, and a somewhat outsized head, appeared out of nowhere.  
“H…hello?”  
“Hello Mister Prime Minister sir. I is being Mipsy. My boss is being the Head of the Goblins, Lord Ragnok. He is having something for you.”  
“Gob…Goblins? I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Mipsy. Could you sit down and tell me what I need to know?”  
The house-elf looked at him and then shrugged. Crawling up onto a chair in front of the PM’s desk, she said, “Goblins are being in charge of the wizarding bank. Lord Ragnok is head of all Goblins in Europe. He very important.”  
The Prime Minister looked at the little creature and smiled. “I should think so, if he’s in charge of such an organization and all wizarding money. I’m afraid I don’t know anything about their money though.”  
Mipsy’s eyes widened a little bit. “Nothing, Mr. Prime Minister sir?”  
“Nothing. Would you be willing to teach me?”  
The elf started to shake, and then started to cry. “You’d give Mipsy that honor? To teach you, Mr. Prime Minister Sir? Mipsy is overcome. Even the Great Mistress Harley doesn’t ask for teaching.”  
“The Great Mistress Harley? You mean the Lady Harley Ross?”  
“Mister Prime Minister Sir be knowing the Great Mistress Harley?”  
“Yes, I know her. She destroyed something of mine when I was being stupid.”  
“That be making sense, Mister Prime Minister Sir. The Great Mistress Harley not be liking stupid people. She be making great and powerful magics.”  
“I’ve seen some of her great and powerful magics. She makes many of my people very, very scared.”  
“She being very good at that.”  
The PM nodded. “Yes, she is. She scares me and I’m the Prime Minister.”  
“The Great Mistress Harley be easy to deal with. You leave her and Mistress Hermione alone, she being leaving you alone. Easy.”  
John Major knew what the likely opposite of that situation was. He had seen the heads… and they weren’t pretty. And since there was nowhere he could go to get away from her, leaving her alone was very, very high on his list of things to do.  
“Now, Mipsy, you were going to teach me about wizard money?”  
The house-elf smiled. Mister Prime Minister Sir was nice. He was polite and she was happy to teach him.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
It turned out that the Wizarding monetary system was not complicated… just stupid and lacking in any mathematical grounding or rational. It wasn’t done in base two… or five… or ten.. or seventeen even. In fact, it didn’t make any sense at all. There was no tie back to bullion-weight (troy ounces) or anything. In fact, it was singularly the dumbest financial system that he had ever seen and that was saying something.  
The bronze Knut, which he judged to be roughly equal to a one-pence piece… well, it took twenty-nine of those to equal one Sickle (made of sterling silver, as far as he could tell) and seventeen sickles to one (gold) galleon. John knew instinctively, without having to look it up, that there was no way that seventeen pieces of silver equaled one troy ounce of Gold. In pounds sterling, he knew that gold was hovering around £300, because the exchange to USD was about 0.626 – since that’s what he had read in the London Times that morning. It was obvious that the Goblins of Gringotts were rigging the system in their favor and making a killing off the exchange rates.  
When Mipsy the house-elf had finished teaching him, he said, “You said that Lord Ragnok, your boss, has something for me?”  
“Mipsy be getting it for Mr. Prime Minister sir.” And she disappeared. When she returned, she was sitting on a pallet of Gold. Not gold coins, but rather gold bars. He looked at her, his mouth agape.  
“Mipsy… Why did Lord Ragnok send this?”  
“Lord Ragnok said it was from the Lady Harley. He told me to have you read the note.”  
John looked at the pallet and saw an elegantly written note. He took it, opened it, and read the following:  
 **  
_  
“John – This is partial payment for what I did to your ships (I’m sorry!). I didn’t expect the ocean to drop that much. If you need more, please let me know. There’s lots more where this came from._   
**

**_Respectfully,  
Harley.”_**  
  
He looked at the pallet, thought about the approximate value, shrugged, and then took one of the gold bars and handed it to the house-elf, knowing that his government wasn’t going to miss it. After all, they usually spilled more than that before the sun was up. “This is yours, Mipsy. On behalf of her Majesty’s government, for your services. I thank you for bringing this to us and for your explanation of the wizarding money system.”  
The house-elf trembled and she again started to cry. He looked at her, not understanding what she was feeling or what was going on. “There’s no need for tears, Mipsy. I’m just making sure you’re getting paid for what you did for our government. That gold is yours and yours alone. You tell Lord Ragnok that if he has a problem with it, he can come see me. Otherwise, I expect him to respect my judgement and leave you alone. I want you to use that gold for your happiness.”  
The house-elf put the bar down carefully and then flung herself at his legs, hugging him fiercely. He reached down and rubbed her back. “It’s ok, Mipsy. Truly, it is.”  
Wiping her eyes, Mipsy said finally, “Mipsy not be deserving Mr. Prime Minister Sir’s kindness, but she will never be forgetting it. Even Dobby will hear about how good Mr. Prime Minister Sir is to house-elves.”  
“Dobby? You mean Lady Harley’s major-domo? The house-elf who dresses in combat fatigues?”  
Mipsy nodded. Every house-elf except for Winky was afraid of Dobby. He was the most powerful house-elf ever, because of his bond to the Lady Harley. He also had a very snarky attitude about wizards and witches, like his mistress. “Dobby is being the most powerful house-elf ever. He be bonded to Lady Harley and she be giving him some of her magic. Dobby commands all other elves who work for Lady Harley and Mistress Hermione.”  
That made sense to John. He knew what she was capable of doing (that was… pretty much anything) and figured that anyone who worked for her had to be powerful as well. Like the Arch-Angel Michael. Not someone you wanted to cross. He had no idea that the stories about Michael were true, if somewhat changed by the passage of time and translations, but that was a secret that was beyond the Statute of Secrecy.  
“Mipsy? I have just one more favor to ask, and I hope that it’s a small one.”  
“Anything, mister Prime Minister Sir.”  
“Could you go and find the Minister for Magic, as well as the head of magical law enforcement and bring them here, please?”  
“Yes, mister Prime Minister Sir! Mipsy goes and gets.” With that, she disappeared.  
The waiting gave him time to go and get another cup of tea from the urn that was always filled and hot in his ante-room. As he filled his mug, because he hated the tiny bone-china tea-cups, he wondered if the tea-urn wasn’t itself magic, because it never, ever seemed to empty. After one lump of sugar and a smattering of milk, he made his way back into his office and sat down behind his desk.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Five minutes later, there was a pop! and Mipsy the elf appeared with the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. The man looked somewhat rumpled as if, somehow, Sunday had come as a surprise. John Major stood immediately and extended his hand. “Cornelius. Welcome. Thank you for coming this quickly.”  
It took the man a moment to recognize where he was. When he did, he smiled. “John. Thank God it’s you. I had no idea where I was being summoned to and worried that somehow it was going to be the IWC. Your elf didn’t say.”  
John laughed. “Well, thank you. She’s not my elf. She works for Lord Ragnok of Gringotts. She was doing me a favor.”  
Cornelius did a double-take. “What? Are you serious? That’s odd. She acted as though she was yours.”  
“Well, I may have paid her for her services….”  
That snapped Cornelius’ head around. “Paid? How much?”  
“Bar of Gold?”  
Cornelius Fudge’s jaw hit the ground and rattled around for a moment. That was a lot of Gold. More than any house-elf would know what to do with, under ordinary circumstances. When he was finally in command of his wits, he said, “I hope that Ragnok doesn’t think you’re trying to buy his elf’s loyalties.”  
Major thought about that. His opposite number had a point. “Me too. I hadn’t thought of that.”  
“You have to remember, John, just how mercantile the Goblins are. Ragnok would not be outside his rights to view it that way.”  
“Ugh. Well, I seem to have a knack for pissing off magicals. At least Harley hasn’t decided to kill me yet.”  
Cornelius shuddered at the thought of that. He had never been afraid of much, though it was true that the Dark Lord scared the crap out of him. However, there were now so few death eaters left that the Dark Lord wasn’t much of a threat. Harley Ross, however, was a clear and present danger. With an expected lifespan of two hundred years or more, she was going to be a threat for a very, very long time and she didn’t really have a forgiving bone in her whole body. Crossing her was asking for pain, suffering, humiliation, or death – depending on how charitable she was feeling. Hurting Hermione, Harley’s wife, was just a one-way ticket to Hell. Harley would find you… and every nightmare that you had ever had would become manifest in her.  
John Major looked at his counterpart and saw something in the man’s eyes. “What is it, Cornelius. I mention Harley and I saw a look in your eyes that scared me.”  
Cornelius ran a hand up his forehead and through his receding hair, in what looked to be an expression of worry. “John, you’ve got to understand, Harley Ross is likely to life for the next two hundred years, maybe more. She’s coming up on her 13th birthday. That means that you, your government, and all the ones that follow are going to have to figure a way to come to terms with the fact that there is a power in the Kingdom that lives under a completely different set of laws. So long as she doesn’t violate the Statute of Secrecy… “  
“Which she almost did, with that god-damned mountain of hers”  
“Yes, well, quite so. That’s been resolved?”  
“Yes. The whole fucking area has just completely disappeared. Now even our satellites can’t see it. No one can see it or even get close. We can’t get our ships within three miles of the coast for a distance of almost twenty miles. The whole area is like one big black hole, only instead of sucking people in, it pushes people out. In my haste to resolve the situation, the Kingdom has suddenly shrunk by over five thousand square miles!”  
Cornelius whistled at that under his breath. It was a staggering amount of land, suddenly ceded to the magicals of the United Kingdom. It gave them room to spread out in a way that they had never had before. It also allowed them to grow the ‘forbidden forest’, really called Gryffindor’s forest, to some of the rarer and more important magical animals in all of Europe. It would be a place where the Centaurs could roam free and, much more importantly, a place where they could grow all of the magical plants that they needed for the economy that, because of the recent changes that he had brought in, was growing like mad. Thank God for finance people and economic planners!  
“Well, if it’s any consolation John, you’ve given my people much needed land and a chance to be protected for the long-term. No one will have ever done as much for us, even accidentally, as you.”  
Somehow, John Major did feel better about the situation, but he wondered about what it was going to mean, to the Kingdom and to Europe, that he had single-handedly given over that much land to the country’s magical citizens. Oh well. It’s gone now… he thought, somewhat resigned.  
Then Cornelius asked the question that caught John Major up short and made a stone the size of London form in his stomach. “Does the Queen know?”  
Cornelius had never, ever, ever seen someone go so suddenly pale. Even in the presence of Her. “I.. “  
Cornelius watched as the man struggled for words. It would have been funny, if it wasn’t so completely sad. No one deserved to be in the position that John Major was at this moment. The realization that he had done something that was so completely above his pay-grade and so completely antithetical to his oath of office, and in violation of so many laws that he didn’t know where to begin, was a gut-punch.  
That Amelia Bones chose that moment to appear with Mipsy the Elf was just one more thing to make John Major’s day worse.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
“Sorry I’m late. I had to finish a number of things. Oh, hello Cornelius. Where are we?”  
“You’re in my office, Ma’am. I am the Prime Minister of England, John Major.”  
“Oh, hello. I am Amelia Bones, Director of Magical Law Enforcement for the United Kingdom.”  
“Welcome, Amelia. Please, have a seat. I was just speaking with Cornelius and he made me realize something… well, something that’s probably going to cost me my job. Anyway, you’ll see I have two problems. One is right there.” He pointed to the pallet of Gold. “And the second is much bigger and that is this: Apparently one of your people, a Minerva Catherine McGonagall, has passed on.  
Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be a problem, except that she was awarded the Victoria Cross in 1945 as well as the American’s Congressional Medal of Honor and the French Légion d'honneur. I am or the Queen herself is expected to attend such funerals. I need help getting to the funeral, because of the new wards… that’s the right word?...” Cornelius nodded and so Major continued, “that have been erected all along the border of lands you’ve just been given.”  
Amelia did a double-take when she saw the pallet of Gold. “Where did that come from?”  
“The Lady Ross. She busted up several of my ships and she sent the gold along as payment for the repairs. Now I have to somehow explain the presence of the Gold to some people and that is going to require that I tell said people the secret, after I swear them to secrecy.”  
Amelia groaned. “That girl’s more fucking trouble than she’s worth.”  
John looked at her and said, “You don’t know the half of it. Not only did I just accidentally cede, for all time, the lands around your school – Hogwarts – right?” Cornelius again nodded, “But I gave away over five thousand square miles.”  
Amelia did a quick and dirty, back-of-the-envelope calculation, and came up with number that surprised her. She had never seen an area that big that was all-magical. Even the refuges in central Europe weren’t that big!  
John saw the look in her eye and nodded. “I’ve lost Benderloch, Barcaldine, and several other towns and villages. There are more than fifty thousand people who are under threat because of this.”  
“What do you mean?” Amelia asked.  
“Well, you know that I know almost nothing about magic, except to be afraid of it, but as I understand what Harley and Hermione have done, if you leave the warded area, you can’t come back in. The magic repels non-magical people and there is no force that we can bring to bear that will circumvent it.  
Amelia nodded. “And based on how strong those two are, if they’ve set the wards, there’s not a hope in Hell of doing anything that would bring them down.”  
Cornelius thought about what Amelia was saying and nodded. His grounding in magical theory wasn’t nearly as strong as hers, as his mastery was in magical building, but it made sense. The stronger the person setting the wards, the stronger the wards. There were exceptions, but that was the general rule. If either had done something like blood-wards, there wasn’t a chance in Hell of bringing them down… or if they had set or woven them into the ley-lines – and the ley lines around Hogwarts were the strongest and deepest anywhere on Earth.  
Cornelius was amazed at the scope of the problem and more than a little frightened. People who are threatened tended to do stupid things.  
“Is there any way to get the wards modified so that normal people want to leave? So that they just decide, of their own accord, to pack up and go?”  
Amelia thought about that and then said, “Probably. I’d have to talk to some of my ward-builders, but I think so.”  
“Who would buy the people out though? Who’s going to pay them for their houses? For their businesses?”  
Cornelius had an immediate answer for that. “Gringotts. The Goblins. They have the resources to do that and if they have exclusive rights to re-sell the properties, then I’m sure I can get them to help. They have a relationship with Barclays, now that I think about it.”  
John piped up. “That would solve that problem nicely then. But, we have another issue and that is… how do I get Lady Harley or her wife to modify their wards, if your people can’t do it?”  
“I’ll ask my niece to ask them to do it. I’m sure that if it’s explained to them correctly, then they will do it.” Amelia didn’t like the idea of using her niece to do what should be hers to do, but she was basically persona non grata in the Castle and she really didn’t want to push it. As it was, she was hoping that the girls were going to tolerate her presence during the funeral.  
“Speaking of those two… and the funeral. You said that you need to be in attendance or that the Queen does.”  
“Yes. It’s preferable that the Queen goes, but I can, if I have to.”  
“Well, call the Queen and let her know that if she wants to come to Minerva’s funeral, that we can arrange instant and safe transport for her. It will be the easiest trip that she’s ever made.”  
“You going to have one of Harley’s friends bring the Queen to the Funeral? How are you going to get her through the ward?”  
“Oh, well, individually, we can craft a ward-dispeller. It basically acts as a shield against the wards, and we can get her through that way.”  
“Well, I’ll do it. I may not have a job by tomorrow night, but I will do it.”  
There wasn’t any mirth to be had in Major’s statement and Amelia realized that it was not the time for her to be making comments, even in jest, about the nature of power. She could tell that he really was scared about the situation and she supposed that in his circumstances, she would be as well.

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**Monday, April 26, 1993 – Knockturn Alley, London, Late afternoon.**  
The sun was still bright full in the sky, making the dingy, dirty alley look almost passable. Not that its denizens were any more hospitable, as somethings are just not possible.  
Delores Umbridge moved as quickly as she could to get to the meeting that she had arranged. She would have apparated directly to the spot, but there were wards that kept that from happening. As she scurried along, she thought about the fact that what she was doing was dangerous if she got caught. Not that the DMLE was a threat, as they were mostly de-fanged and de-funded and were disorganized, to say the least. No. Her enemy was much, much more dangerous. Her circle had already lost almost a dozen if its core members: Mulciber, Snape, McNair, Nott… Purebloods all, as well as the Malfoys. That was a loss that stuck in her craw. The Malfoy fortune could have gone a long way to fund their efforts… but they had sold out to the bitch and were now solidly on the side of the light. It was infuriating!  
As she made her way to a low-hanging stoop, she thought about the young Malfoy, Draco. If we could kill him, that would serve… The thought amused her. She still had a resource at Hogwarts, though she was unreliable. She wondered what it would take to have her source do the deed. If her source was ever found out, it could get very ugly for her, since they would come looking for her and Deputy Undersecretary or not, she would have no chance against them. Cornelius wasn’t going to protect her, since he was so busy playing economist or whatever it was that he said he was doing.  
The Dark Lord wasn’t going to protect her either, if he still lived. There were rumors that he did, that he had somehow found a way to cheat death. Something was going on with the Goblins and that meant that they knew something. The question was… what? There was also a report from her contact at Hogwarts that a student had died and that it was tied to the Dark Lord. She had no idea what to make of that report, but it was interesting if true.  
Delores had always prided herself on having a powerful protector – someone to whom she could attach herself as she climbed up the power-ladder. Now, however, she had to make the ladder herself, which was a much scarier proposition. She wasn’t a powerful witch and there was no way that she could defend herself if confronted one-on-one. That was one reason that Harley and Hermione Ross scared the crap out of her. It was bad enough that both were considered “purebloods”. That was in and of itself completely outrageous, but there was nothing she could do about the society’s rules and expectations.  
One thing that was infuriating was the fact that the Daily Prophet was scared to death of the two girls and was going out of its way to speak of them civilly or even kindly. The Quibbler had done full, front-page interviews with them that were glowing and despite the fact that Prophet went out of its way to disparage the Quibbler, enough people still read it and believed it that it was a dangerous influence against purebloods’ interests.  
Stooping down, Delores tapped her wand in a certain pattern on the door in front of her. After a moment, it expanded to a regular-sized door and opened of its own accord. Looking around, to see if anyone was watching, Delores passed in and closed the door behind her.  
 ****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The DMLE agent watched as Delores Umbridge went into the building before beginning his note-taking. The time, the place, every detail that was significant. It all mattered. The Inspector-General’s Office of Professional Conduct and Ethics (OPCE) had gotten wind of Senior-Undersecretary Umbridge’s associations with certain criminal elements through the work of a certain Daily Prophet reporter who, in an attempt to clean up her reputation, had turned her hand to ferreting out the criminal underbelly of magical society in the United Kingdom.  
Why that was, no one knew, but they all thought that it might very well have to do with the Ladies Ross, who were building a power-base at Hogwarts that threatened to be the power-block for the foreseeable future. At least, that’s what a number of prominent parents throughout the society were surmising.  
A young man, 19, who had been graduated from Hogwarts two years ago was an expert at disguise and tracking. He could hide right in front of you and you’d never know it. If he had to admit it, he might cop to having some natural ability that was linked to his family’s magic, that allowed him to disappear into thin air. He could also find you, no matter how hard you tried to hide.  
He wondered, based on what he had seen, whether the Ladies Ross might be able to overcome his skills. They were both so much more magically powerful than he that knew, head-to-head, he’d have no chance at all. Watching Hermione Ross had been a terrifying experience… but Harley had actually caused him to piss himself. She had created a two-mile-high mountain! Even Merlin the Great had never done something like that.  
After enough time had passed that it was safe, the DMLE agent followed the Senior Undersecretary. Fortunately, he had a trick that would allow him to by-pass the warded door. He closed his eyes and fumated his way under the door.  
He didn’t get as far as the hallway. Somehow, someone had warded the door. He tried to back out, but discovered he couldn’t move. He knew that reverting to his human form would kill him, but he couldn’t hold his gaseous state forever. He tried going down. No luck. Sideways. No luck. Then he pushed… and found a crack in the door. It led to a small passageway through the lock mechanism. He followed the small hole and found himself, once again, outside. Falling to the ground, he shuddered. It was the closest call he had ever had.  
Lawrence “Lance” O’Brian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In all the time that he had been working for the OPCE, he had never, ever been in the position of almost dying because of something as simple as breaching a ward.  
Standing up, Lance got out of the sunlight and into the shade, where his disappearing would be less noticed. He walked down a grimy, awful, spider-filled side passage and let himself become more and more invisible as he walked along. It was like just… fading from view.  
When he was completely invisible once again, he circled back and took up a position in the alley, from which he could watch the door that held Delores Umbridge. If she emerged, he would stun her, sift her memories, and then revive her, after making sure she didn’t remember the attack. It wasn’t strictly legal, but it wasn’t unlawful either. There were clauses in her contract that allowed the OPCE to assure itself of her continuing good conduct. As a matter of law, it wasn’t a right that was used very often, as its legality was dubious and the department didn’t want to have the matter tested in court… or exposed to the scrutiny of the Wizengamot, which might not look kindly at an action that was meant as a check on the actions of Purebloods who had gotten out of hand.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
**Buckingham Palace – Her Majesty’s Court – same day**

John Major entered the Great Court of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, and approached the dais, after being announced. There were four people present: Her Majesty, John Major, and two ferocious-looking guards bearing Halberds, who dwarfed John in every conceivable way. Their presence alone was a very clear message.  
Bowing his head, he waited for his sovereign to speak.  
“Mr. Prime Minister. You have asked to come into our presence. What do you ask of your Queen?”  
He looked up, but only to meet her eyes briefly, so that he acknowledged that she was speaking to him. “Your Majesty, I have come bearing news, with my resignation already prepared, so that I might depart Her Gracious Majesty’s presence in dignity.”  
“Why would you depart our service, Sir John? What have you done that warrants such an action?”  
“Your Gracious Majesty, I have accidentally ceded a large piece of your lands in Scotland, in and around Hogwarts Castle in order to protect the secret.”  
“How large a portion of land was ceded, as you say, Sir John?”  
“Just over five thousand square miles, Your Majesty.”  
The Queen was an unflappable woman, who had driven ambulances during the Bombing of London, and had experienced harrowing moments that defied the stereotype of a young sovereign. However, there were moments when she was taken aback and this was one of them.  
“You gave away an area more than twenty times the size of London, Sir John?”  
Quietly, he said, “Yes, My Queen. That’s what I did. I didn’t have a choice, but that’s what I did.”  
“And why didn’t you have a choice?”  
“Majesty, the Lady Ross built a three mile high mountain on top of the one that she had destroyed. It’s visible at a very great distance. In order to protect the secret, I had to cede the land, so that it could be warded properly, so that our forces could not see it or tell that a mountain had suddenly appeared where there had not been one before.”  
“Sir John, are you telling us that that she built a mountain? How can that be?”  
“Your Majesty, you were told that Lady Ross has very few limits on her power, correct? That the one true limit on her abilities is that she cannot raise the Dead?”  
Queen Elizabeth nodded. She had been told such, but had not credited it the way that she had obviously needed to. “We are having a difficult time believing that anyone could do such a thing, be she magical or not.”  
“Your Majesty… please… believe it. The Lady Ross moved something approximating five billion square yards of Earth to create it. In fact, as far as we can tell from the seismic disturbances, it’s still growing, though the rate has slowed considerably. The fjord above which Hogwarts Castle sits is now over nine hundred meters deep, over a distance of more than a mile. Its creation actually lowered the entire Atlantic Ocean by almost an inch.”  
“And this made you cede the area? To whom did you cede our lands?”  
“To the magicals, your Majesty. I ceded the lands so that the secret would be protected and our forces wouldn’t try to penetrate the area.”  
“How does this benefit us?”  
“Your Majesty, much of the land is unoccupied. Cold, barren lands, good for not much else than sheep-grazing or wind-power. But the magicals tell me that they can re-grow great forests and create lands for dragons, Hippogriffs, and other such magical animals. The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, claims that this is the single greatest gift magicals have ever received.”  
“Have them brought before us. The Ladies Ross and the Minister for Magic. This is our command, Sir John.”  
John Major recognized a dismissal when he heard it. Bowing his head, he withdrew silently, never turning his back on her.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

  
**Hogwarts School - Wednesday, April 28th, 1993**

The morning sun broke through the overcast clouds, for what promised to be a warmer-than-average day. The new mountain that Harley had created, across the fjord to the south, was ringed with clouds, but they were moving and Hermione thought that they’d be able to see the top of the mountain for at least some portion of the day. Everyone was calling it “Mount Harley”, but Hermione was resisting, as was Harley herself. She wanted it to be called “Mount McGonagall” or “Mount Minerva” or something… just so long as her name wasn’t attached to it. It was, however, a loosing battle, and Hermione thought that her wife was just going to have to acquiesce at some point.  
At precisely 9:30, the student body assembled as one group, joined hands, and then disapparated to a pre-planned spot that overlooked the great fjord. The twenty thousand people who were waiting for the ceremony to begin saw them arrive and gasped, almost as one. A silent, giant group Apparition had never been attempted before and it was as shocking as anything that would happen that morning.  
At almost the same time, at the Queen’s primary receiving chamber in Buckingham Palace in London, Harley and Hermione Ross knelt silently and awaited the Queen’s pleasure.  
When Queen Elizabeth II appeared, the two girls bowed their heads and waited for her to speak. It was not long. “Rise, ladies, and attend us forthwith.”  
Hermione and Harley rose as one and walked over to where the Queen stood. She had absolute power over them, though she didn’t know it, or wasn’t willing to acknowledge it outright.  
“Your Gracious Majesty” Hermione said.  
“My Queen” Harley said, somewhat more softly. She was extremely nervous about the situation and worried that her sovereigns’ judgement might be harsh.  
“We have business to be about this morning, ladies. That stays our hand. However, there shall be a serious reckoning at the appropriate time.”  
Harley swallowed hard. She had no idea what the Queen might be contemplating, but she knew that her life was possibly on the line. It was only Hermione’s love, which she could feel radiating through their bond, that kept her from fleeing. For the moment though, there was nothing to be done about it. All she could do was bow her head. “We understand, your Majesty.”

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The Queen’s arrival at Hogwarts, in the company of the Ladies Ross, was news enough, but it was overshadowed by the purpose for which so many had gathered. The wizards and witches of the DMLE accompanied the Queen to her position of honor, where she was seated at the head of the rank of dignitaries who had chosen to attend. The Minister for Magic from France was in attendance, as were the Ministers for Magic from Germany, Sweden, the Netherlands, and Italy. The President of MCUSA was also in attendance, which was a surprise to many, as she didn’t travel very much at her age (223 years).  
The simultaneous arrival of the entire student body from Hogwarts was still being talked about in hushed whispers, all through the crowd. Even the head of the Unspeakables was impressed – and Saul Croaker was not someone who was easily impressed. Cornelius Fudge was feeling his oats though, as the other Ministers for Magic were quietly crediting him with such an impressive feat and wondering how he had come to have the courage to allow all of the students, including the youngest, to learn how to Apparate in such a precise and difficult way.  
Cornelius has brushed it off as “just another example of courageous students, taking on a challenge when everyone else said they couldn’t do it.”  
Privately, Fudge was beside himself with frustration, since he – as the Minister for Magic – didn’t know how to Apparate the way that the students did. When he learned that none of the students could teach him, since the secret to doing so was locked inside them magically, he was almost apoplectic.  
“You’ve got to learn from Harley directly, Minister. She’s the only one who can teach you how to do it.” They all said, and all failing to acknowledge that Harley had refused to teach any adult the secret. Most thought it would be funny to have the Prime Minister for Magic run up against that particular barrier.  
It was embarrassing for Cornelius to have to ask… and some wiser, or perhaps kinder person must have realized it, because it didn’t take very long for a note, hastily written on a scrap of paper, to find its way into his hand.

_  
**Don’t worry. I’ll teach you the secret as soon as I can get away from tending to HRH.  
R,  
HJR**  
_

Cornelius read the note and then relaxed internally. He was going to learn a bit of magic that no one else, save for the students of Hogwarts, knew how to do. Not only that, but he was going to be the only Minister for Magic who knew how to get past all known ward-types. Not even Amelia Bones knew how to do that! Wasn’t it going to be a shock to the system when he was able to Apparate directly to the IWC’s offices! Or right, directly into the Wizengamot! That would shut up the back-benchers! Assholes, he thought to himself.

The service itself was, if not exactly lively, was at least moving and eloquent. People spoke of Minerva, sometimes from a personal perspective, sometimes from a professional one, but all with a sense of profound loss and grief. Hermione talked about how “Professor Mcgonakitty”, as her father had called the professor, had come to their house and told her about being magical and done the Animagus transformation for her, to show her that magic was real. Then she spoke about harboring the professor after her release.  


>   
>  ****
> 
> **  
> “I want you all to know that I would do it a thousand times again. Harley and I have no shame and no sadness for having given her a home after she was released from confinement. It was, frankly, the very least we could do, given what she had done for so many. Minerva McGonagall told me that there was no shame in loving Harley and that we are all, ultimately, slaves to our magic. She said that my magic had chosen Harley and that was that. She said it as if there was no more to discuss, and frankly, I walked away feeling more uplifted than I had ever felt after having spoken with a teacher. Minnie was no saint though. She listened to Albus Dumbledore for far too many years. She let him cloud her judgement and that is close to unforgivable. How many students did Dumbledore manipulate? How many students were allowed to abuse others simply because it was for “the greater good”, as Dumbledore claimed so many times? How many Death-Eaters went free During the First Blood War because somehow, Dumbledore thought they could be ‘redeemed’? How many Potioneers, or potential potions-masters were lost to us because of Dumbledore’s manipulations and Minerva’s foolish acquiescence? I’ve seen the numbers and talked to far too many and the picture that has formed is ugly.  
>    
>  She was a good, even great, teacher for many years, but she, like many others, grew angry when she was confronted with a new way of doing things. She wasn’t willing to change, to adapt, and to grow. I am sorry for that. Perhaps it was because my wife Harley and I are what we are and Minerva felt challenged by that. Maybe it was because things were moving faster than she knew how to cope with and she had no personal, emotional anchor to give her the kind of courage that she needed to become a new person and a new kind of witch. Or, maybe, she tried to stretch, to grow, and found that it was harder than it looked and she no longer had the energy for it. That happens to people and if that was the case, and I certainly don’t know one way or the other, then I feel deeply sad for her. Let me leave you with this thought: Minerva Catherine McGonagall was a heroine and a deeply good woman. She loved people and was warmly and truly loved in return. She will be missed in many, many ways.  
>    
>  Harley and I have seen the other side. We know what awaits us. We will live our lives knowing that when our time comes that we will pass together, and we will be reunited with those whom we loved most and best. I know that Minerva will be one of those whom I will rejoice to see again.  
>    
>  Until that day, however, let us not forget all that she did for so many: Recipient of the Victoria Cross for her actions during the Bombing of London; of the Order of Merlin, First Class, for those same actions, of the Congressional Medal of Honor in defense of American troops during the war in France, and of the Légion d'honneur for saving French lives during the bombing of Paris and its subsequent liberation – and if that wasn’t enough, she won the Pudducky Transfiguration prize an astonishing nine times during her life and advanced that art in ways about which they are still studying and writing. Let us all be grateful for people like Minerva. Her voice, her presence, and her fierce defense of her students will never be forgotten. God was good to give her to us for so long. Now she is his again. Amen.**

  


Hermione stepped off the stage and walked to the Queen, and then knelt before her. “My Queen. Thank you for being here. We can depart when you are ready.”  
Elizabeth nodded and then said, “Thank you, my child. We will have a moment with our peers and then we shall depart, as you say.”  
Hermione nodded and rose, when biddened to do so. She was surprised when she realized that Cornelius Fudge had presented himself to the Queen and also taken a knee. Hermione had not expected such deference from him, even though they were all her subjects.  
Withdrawing to a respectful distance, Hermione gave her Queen and her Prime Minister the space to have a private conversation, though she watched him so that she could assure herself that his hands never came anywhere near his wand and that he made not a single motion that could be taken as threatening.  
When the Cornelius rose, he turned to look at her. She took that as the signal to approach him. “Sir” she said, curtsying appropriately.  
“Lady Ross” he said, acknowledging her station.  
“If you will close your eyes and take my hand, I will take you to my wife. She will teach you the secret.”  
Cornelius managed a small smile. He didn’t want to appear too excited, but he couldn’t help the look of happiness that came to his face. He was going to learn something new – which was not something that happened for him very much anymore. Reach his hand out, he said, “You tell me when?”  
“Yes sir. When I count to three, close your eyes and keep them close. I will tell you when to open them again.”  
“Ready when you are then” he said.  
“On my mark. One. Two. Three.” And on ‘three’, she too closed her eyes and walked into the ‘other place’, the ‘gray place’ between worlds that Harley had discovered. When she was where she wanted next to be, she stepped out of the gray place. It was a totally different way of moving than the one she had discovered, but it was incredibly useful too.  
“You can open your eyes, sir.” Hermione said.  
Cornelius Fudge opened his eyes and looked around. They were inside the Great Hall of Hogwarts and in front of him stood the Lady Harley Ross. Next to her was her Godfather, Sirius Orion Black, Lord of House Black and the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Beside him was Isabelle Ross, the new Matriarch of House Ross, with the passing of Minerva McGonagall.  
“Welcome to Hogwarts, Minister. After Harley teaches you the secret, we need to talk. There are things you need to know now.”

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	8. Dawn's New Light - Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 8  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com**

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**From Chapter Seven….**

Hermione nodded and rose, when biddened to do so. She was surprised when she realized that Cornelius Fudge had presented himself to the Queen and also taken a knee. Hermione had not expected such deference from him, even though they were all her subjects.  
Withdrawing to a respectful distance, Hermione gave her Queen and her Prime Minister the space to have a private conversation, though she watched him so that she could assure herself that his hands never came anywhere near his wand and that he made not a single motion that could be taken as threatening.  
When the Cornelius rose, he turned to look at her. She took that as the signal to approach him. “Sir” she said, curtsying appropriately.  
“Lady Ross” he said, acknowledging her station.  
“If you will close your eyes and take my hand, I will take you to my wife. She will teach you the secret.”  
Cornelius managed a small smile. He didn’t want to appear too excited, but he couldn’t help the look of happiness that came to his face. He was going to learn something new – which was not something that happened for him very much anymore. Reach his hand out, he said, “You tell me when?”  
“Yes sir. When I count to three, close your eyes and keep them close. I will tell you when to open them again.”  
“Ready when you are then” he said.  
“On my mark. One. Two. Three.” And on ‘three’, she too closed her eyes and walked into the ‘other place’, the ‘gray place’ between worlds that Harley had discovered. When she was where she wanted next to be, she stepped out of the gray place. It was a totally different way of moving than the one she had discovered, but it was incredibly useful too.  
“You can open your eyes, sir.” Hermione said.  
Cornelius Fudge opened his eyes and looked around. They were inside the Great Hall of Hogwarts and in front of him stood the Lady Harley Ross. Next to her was her Godfather, Sirius Orion Black, Lord of House Black and the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Beside him was Isabelle Ross, the new Matriarch of House Ross, with the passing of Minerva McGonagall.  
“Welcome to Hogwarts, Minister. After Harley teaches you her secret, we need to talk. There are things you need to know now.”  


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**Hogwarts School - Wednesday, April 28th, 1993 – Immediately afterwards**

Cornelius Fudge left Hogwarts and returned to his office. What he had learned about the Dark Lord (“Dork Lard”) as the Lady Ross called him, scared him sufficiently that he was grateful that they - the Headmaster, his Goddaughter, daughter-in-law, fiancée, et al. – were on his side and not working against him. And he was beyond furious at Dumbledore for what the man had kept to himself over the years.  
On the other hand, as he Apparated back to the Ministry using the new method he had just learned, Cornelius fairly beamed with excitement. He was the very first adult, he believed, to learn the new way of getting around. Since it allowed him to pass right through any ward that anyone could set up, he thought that he had a magical defense that no one could circumvent. He was both right and wrong in that belief, but neither Hermione nor Harley was going to correct his mis-perception. HE was the first Minister for Magic, anywhere in the world so far as he knew, who had this awesome ability.  
It rankled him that he couldn’t teach anyone else the technique, which meant that he couldn’t teach his wife, but Sirius had pulled him aside and explained to him, when he had begun to complain about the restriction, that not even Harley’s mother knew the Apparition technique and that if she wasn’t allowed to learn it, how did Cornelius expect to have his wife learn it?  
One thing that had stopped Cornelius in his tracks, the moment that he had arrived at Hogwarts for the memorial service, was the enormous mountain that was newly visible from the Castle. It filled the western skyline and the clouds circled around its peak. Mt. Harley, as everyone was calling it, was an unwitting testament to the girls’ enormous power and it filled him with awe. He wondered as he looked at it just how many witches and wizards would look at the mountain in the years to come and think about the things for which they’d be remembered. For most, the answer would be nothing at all.  
The fjord below it shimmered deep-Ocean blue now; very different from the blue-green, sometimes brown, that it used to be.  
The Kraken that lived in the fjord, that everyone had mistaken for some kind of bizarrely giant octopus, was actually the last line of defense for the Castle against anyone attacking from the Ocean. No one knew how big it was, but that was by design. It was, in fact, huge – almost 100 feet high when completely out of the water – and very, very old.  
No one knew that it was Dumbledore who had been the one to convince the Kraken to come, with the help of Newt Scamander, to Scotland in the late 1930’s and that it had defended the school against the German Navy a number of times in the war that followed – but anyone who knew anything about the truth of the beast – and there were only two of them now– knew that the creature may very well have defended Sparta or Crete or the City of Troy, in the days when those cities were at war. It would defend Hogwarts that way, until the school was gone or the need for its protection has passed.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

“But is he going to play ball with us?” Sirius asked, as he paced in his office. Isabelle was sitting in the sunlight, but the large, open window that faced the south, taking advantage of the bright, Spring sun that had broken out.  
Isabelle considered his question and then said, “Yes, I think so. At least as it regards the Horcruxes. As for the remaining Death Eaters? Don’t know. It god-damned well helps that we have Lucius in our corner now. He can identify the ones who are left and we can figure ways to legally target them.”  
Sirius stopped, turned, and looked at her. “You know, I’m pretty certain that my God-daughter no longer cares so much about the niceties like ‘legal’ and all that. If anyone else takes a run at Hermione, all we’re going to be able to do is get the fuck out of the way and let her do what she’s going to do.”  
Isabelle nodded. She knew her daughter well enough to recognize truth when she heard it. If anyone hurt or threatened Hermione, Harley would most certainly go on the War Path. “I can’t contain her any longer, Sirius. She loves me with all her heart, but she loves Hermione even more and there’s nothing she won’t do to protect her.”  
No Headmaster, over the thousand years that the school had existed, had ever been challenged by the presence of two arch-magi. It was the supreme challenge and would make or break him as Headmaster, depending on what happened.  
“I know. I hope that she doesn’t end up killing so many that she no longer cares how many.”  
Isabelle got up and wandered over to him, before putting her arms around him and looking up into his face. “I don’t think it will come to that, but… if she does have to kill, I can’t guarantee that it won’t be bloody as well as spectacular.”  
Sirius thought about that for a moment and shuddered. He had seen what Harley was capable of doing and it scared the piss out of him. Even Dumbledore, at the height of his powers, wasn’t capable of doing what Harley could do. Yes, Dumbledore could do things with more finesse, but it took him time. And it took him using a wand. Harley didn’t need a wand. She used magic instinctively. Magic answered her call and she bent it to her will.  
What really scared Sirius, beyond Harley’s more than just-slightly-bloodthirsty attitude, was the fact that she and Hermione were actively teaching the students how to put their wands away and do what they did: bend magic to their will.  
Worse, he knew that Harley and Hermione were building, or had already built, an army inside Hogwarts. Their army. People who felt, for right or wrong, that they were answerable to them and them alone, irrespective of family or house. Anyone coming into Hogwarts, looking to harm the two girls was walking into a death-trap. It was a sobering thought and one that he didn’t dare share with anyone except Isabelle.  
Minerva had known it, but she was gone now. Poppy Pomfrey knew it, but she was sworn to silence. Madame Hooch had already sworn allegiance to Hogwarts and to the girls personally, though that was as closely a guarded secret as anything could be. He and Isabelle were already sworn in loyalty to the girls. Hagrid would swear, if asked, but was being left alone for the moment because he couldn’t keep a secret (God bless the man). Filius Flitwick couldn’t swear, because he was already sworn to the school and to the Horde and could divide his loyalties no further.  
The other teachers? Pomona Sprout was neutral. She liked Harley and Hermione, of course, but she didn’t see herself as someone who’d actively participate in any kind of general mobilization on the girl’s behalf, for instance. Aurora Sinistra, who taught Astronomy, was neutral as well, for the primary reason that she didn’t have a dog in the fight, one way or the other. Additionally, she also wasn’t much of a witch and couldn’t really help either side, if a fight came. Remus Lupin, on the other hand, had his Mastery in Defense and was sworn to protect Harley and Hermione. That gave the girls a core group of six very, very capable adults who’d fight to protect them. That didn’t count Alastor Moody, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Augusta Longbottom, Arthur, Bill, and Charlie Weasley. Nor did it take Horde into account and the fact that it was one hundred percent, rock-solid behind the girls.  
Sirius looked at her and, after putting his hands on her shoulder and drawing her into another hug said, “You know I can’t act in her defense unless the threat is here, at the school… but you can.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Isabelle – I love you. I haven’t told you that before, it’s true.”  
She looked at him and resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. She knew he loved her. He said it in a thousand little ways every day as he took her into more of his life and background. “I love you too, Sirius. You know that, even if I’ve not said before, really.” Then she hesitated for a moment before saying…. “But I sense that there’s a but, comma in your statement that you’re not getting to…”.  
He looked at her and then looked away for a moment. “You know me pretty well then. And yes, there is.”  
“Just spit it out, Sirius. There’s no sense in hiding it.”  
He leaned out of her embrace and leaned back against the desk before saying, “You know I check out everyone, right? Especially those who might have anything to do with school?”  
She nodded. “And?”  
“So… I… I know what you did for the Horde. Or at least most of it. I know what you’re capable of. There’s a reason that Goblins in Chicago still refer to you as Her.”  
Isabelle winced. Her work for the Horde had been ruthlessly suppressed, for the very reason that they didn’t want to have it known that they had employed someone as good at killing as she. The image of her, wielding a flaming whip, was still used in the training camps that the Goblins ran in the western parts of the United States. She would be their collective nightmare until the last person to see the massacre passed into immortality.  
She couldn’t, or at least wouldn’t, apologize for what she had done for the Goblin she called father. Her biological father had been a true bastard and as a young, impressionable teenage witch who craved both guidance and protection, she had been happy to swap him out for the strict, gruff, but loving parenting of Ragnok, son of Marlor.  
“I won’t apologize for who I am, Sirius.”  
“And I’m not asking you to, love. I love you just the way you are. I’m just saying that I hope she doesn’t end up not caring. I saw too many Aurors who had taken so many lives when we were fighting against the Death Eaters that they stopped caring about whether they killed someone or not.”  
“Unless Harley’s enemies are very, very stupid indeed, they’ll heed the warnings that she’s already laid down and they will leave her and Hermione alone.”  
Sirius snorted and looked out the window and said, “Unless they want a mountain dropped on them….”  
Isabelle laughed out loud at that. “There’s always that…”

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Fortunately, for all concerned parties, hurting anyone was, at least for the moment, the last thing on Harley’s mind. That was because she was caught up in one of the side effects of being a young teen.  
The stress from the funeral for Minerva had begun to bleed off and the exhaustion of the semester had well and truly set in. The study pace had become relentless: Food, class, class, food, class, class, class, class, food. Study…. More food. Bathe. Prep clothes for the next day. Brush teeth. Kiss goodnight. Bed. They had been at it since late January and they were all tired. And horny. Very, very horny.  
The hand that grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her into the anteroom almost got cut off. The snap-hiss of the lightsaber igniting from the end of her wand caused her would-be assailant to fall backwards, onto her butt. “Hey! It’s me!”  
The lightsaber went out the moment Hermione heard the voice. “Fay! What the hell?”  
“Sorry! I was trying to get your attention without letting everyone know!”  
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ok, so what’s up? Why the darkened room?”  
“Ugh. Sorry about that too. Look, we don’t have a lot of time and I’ll be blunt.”  
“About?... “  
“Can you please get Harley so that I have to say this only once. It’s embarrassing enough as it is.”  
Hermione closed her eyes and reached out to her wife with her magic. The bond that they shared had been growing stronger with every passing day, and even though they couldn’t share thoughts, they could share… emotions… images (kind of) … and something intangible that not even she could describe.  
In a moment, Harley appeared in a shimmer of mystical black light. She looked at Hermione and then at Fay. “What? I was reading and I got this sense that you needed me.”  
Hermione nodded. “Fay needs to say something to us and wanted to say it only once, because apparently, it’s embarrassing.”  
Harley rolled her eyes and then looked at the beautiful blonde. “What? I was trying to finish my Runes work.”  
Fay looked at them both, shrugged, and then started undressing. While she did so, she took a deep breath and then said, “I’m horny. And before you both die of laughter, it’s not your run-of-the mill kind, but like crawling-the-walls, I’m-going-to-kill-you kind of horny. I’m barely keeping together and not raping someone at this point. I need to get laid and you two, apparently, did something special for Li Qui… and now I’m asking.”  
Hermione looked at Harley, who reached out and pulled her close enough to kiss her. As their mouths not quite touched, Harley said, “Are you alright with this?”  
“Un-huh. I love you. Nothing changes that. But I’m horny too, and besides, we’re not making babies… just licking pussy.” The last little was almost a giggle that may or may not have masked a hint of shyness or nervousness.  
Harley deepened the kiss, making sure that Fay got a very good look at Harley’s hands clutching Hermione’s ass. What broke the kiss apart was Fay’s moan of desire. The two Magi turned and saw that Fay’s hands were busy now: one between her legs, rubbing her swamp-wet pussy and the other cupping her breast and rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger.  
“Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable….”  
With a thought, Hermione bundled Fay’s now discarded clothes and then pulled the girl close before saying, “eyes closed.”  
In an instant, they were gone.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

By the time that Fay Dunbar woke, it was dark outside and she was well sated. Hermione and Harley had done unspeakably wonderful things to her body. She was no longer a virgin to much of anything, except a real, live penis – and that could wait for at least a couple of years.  
It didn’t surprise her that somehow, during their sexual cavorting, that they had been joined by Parvati and she was now curled up around the beautiful Indian girl. It also didn’t surprise her that Harley was curled up, quite protectively, around Hermione. There was no one and nothing that could get between those two and woe was to anyone who tried.  
It hadn’t particularly shocked her to learn that there was that there was nothing quite like sex-magic when it’s performed by an arch-magus. The crazy bitches tended to overpower just about everything! So… the upside was that she was now entirely sated of her earlier desires. The downside was that she could barely move. Their love-making had been extraordinary, as well as more than slightly rambunctious.  
One thing that had thrown her for a loop was the fact that when she and Hermione were going down on Harley, that the beautiful redhead had started hissing. She had actually turned to look at Hermione in shock and the gorgeous, impish girl had giggled and said, “Parselmouth… and just wait until she uses it on you!”  
Fay rubbed her thighs together and her pussy tingled pleasantly. The memory of Harley, with her head between her legs and Harley’s mesmerizing green eyes looking up at her, licking her pussy while speaking Parseltongue was not something she was going to soon forget. Nor was she soon to forget that Hermione had a kinky side a mile wide and that the girl wasn’t nearly the prude that she thought she was.  
As for Parvati – the girl was an enthusiastic, caring lover who had a penchant for using her fingers and a magically lengthened tongue to hit all the right places. That was a trick that Fay was now deeply committed to learning because she was convinced that it would serve her well for many years to cum.  
Across from the big bed, on the other side of the room, Lavender Brown, and Afshan Azad were snuggled up together. Usually Afshan was carefully modest and reserved during the school-year. It was clear though that there were forces moving in the school that were beyond the reach of magic - Hermione had called them “hormones” - whatever they were, and that they were incredibly powerful. At least powerful enough to get a traditionally shy, modest girl to strip off and indulge in a ‘69’.  
For the moment though, Fay relaxed back into Parvati’s arms and thought about what was going to happen in the days to come. The school-years’ end was coming quickly. May would fly by, she was sure, and then they would be into June. June brought finals, as well as the best weather of the school year. It brought trips to Hogsmeade, Quidditch matches, and something that Harley and Hermione had promised: classes outside.  
School had become a great deal more fun since the change of administration. Not only was DADA being taught competently, but so was Potions, History of Magic, Astronomy (now that everyone was using Muggle-designed, Muggle-built, professional telescopes), Transfiguration (which was still being taught by Headmaster Black or the Deputy Headmistress, Jane Court, depending on the day), and Mathematics (which had subsumed the teaching of Arithmancy). On that score, the classes had gotten both easier and harder. The students, every single one, had been sent back to remedial mathematics in order to get them all up to speed for what was coming: Calculus and Differential Equations, which had been discovered to be a great deal easier to use when it came to spell-analysis and spell-creation.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Dinner that night was interesting, to say the least. Fay moved gingerly, given how much of a work-out her bits had gotten and she could tell she wasn’t alone. She could also tell who hadn’t gotten laid that afternoon. The ones who had were wearing real smiles and were relaxed. The ones who hadn’t… were pissy and scowling.  
The H’Reem was gathered, as it usually was, at the Gryffindor table. Except for Blaise Zabini, Goyle, Nott, Neville Longbottom, and most importantly, Draco Malfoy, no boys dared come near the ever-growing group of girls who formed the backbone of the informal, but still quite real army that supported Harley and Hermione. The school was becoming used to the fact that Draco Malfoy, a… if not the preeminent Slytherin, sat to Hermione’s left and Neville sat to Harley’s right while Blaise, Nott, and Goyle were interspersed with the girls on the other side of the table. It was also becoming more common to see Gryffindors interspersed with the Hufflepuffs as well, to everyone’s decreasing surprise, with the Slytherins.  
The teachers watched, fascinated by the fact that if Hermione and Harley stood, no one sat down. As the meal progressed, it was also noticed that the two Magi had taught (and enforced) table-manners, along with Draco. One look of disapproval from Draco at a boy was enough to send that boy scuttling away.  
“Tilly?” Sirius said into the air.  
!Pop! “Headmaster, Sir? What can I be doing for you?”  
“Tilly? Could you answer a question for me, please?”  
“Yes, Headmaster, sir?”  
“Tilly? When did the students start learning table-manners? Is there a class I don’t know about?”  
“No, Headmaster, sir. Dobby says that Master Draco taught Lady Harley and Lady Hermione, and they taught all the misses around them. Draco taught all the boys. Dobby is saying that Lady Harley and Lady Hermione make the others behave, for the honor of Hogwarts and so Lady Isabelle isn’t mad at them.”  
This statement caused Sirius to turn and look at Isabelle, whom he hoped to make his wife. Blushing, Isabelle looked at him and smiled, but bashfully so.  
“So… Tilly. Do the rest of the Hogwarts elves answer to Dobby?”  
“No, Headmaster, sir. Only those sworn to Lady Harley or Lady Hermione’s service.”  
Sirius nodded. There were 153 elves sworn to the two of them. Harley had told him that they could probably take on another 150 or so before they were close to being magically taxed out. That would give them magical relationships with close to three hundred elves, which was close to one hundred times more elves than any other witch or wizard in England.  
Sunday-night dinner was mandatory. Everyone attended. The school ate as a family and there were no exceptions. Monday through Friday, it was understood that you might miss dinner if you had school-work that had to get finished or you weren’t feeling well, or you’d just come from Quidditch-practice and were just too tired to attend, but Sunday night? You did not skip. Period. And you dressed for dinner. Girls were in their best skirts and blouses (and heels) while the boys were in, as a minimum, dress slacks and white shirts.  
Harley and Hermione, of course, along with Draco, Neville, and several others – the acknowledged leaders in each house – wore their dress cloaks as well. They led their houses in, in no particular order, and sat when Harley and Hermione were in place.  
It was something that was taking Sirius a while to get used to seeing. He had not expected to have the school organize itself around him, without so much as even a wink in his direction.  
When it was his time, Sirius stood up and moved to the podium that was decorated with an owl – its wings spread and its face turned to the left. The Great Hall immediately quieted itself, which made him smile. “Good evening, Hogwarts. Thank you for your attention. I have just a couple of things to say. The first is that things are going along exceptionally well. All of you are performing above grade-level and your professors are feeling the pinch of trying to keep ahead of you.” This provoked a wave of cheers.  
When it settled down, Sirius smiled and said, “Yes, you should all be very proud. I know I am. I can honestly brag to every other headmaster or headmistress with whom I speak that Hogwarts is the very best. Our professors are the best, our beautiful school is the best, and our students are the very best. Period.” This touched off another wave of boisterous cheering that took almost twenty seconds to tapper off.  
Sirius looked out, around the Hall, and nodded. “Yes. You deserve the right to cheer. You should all be proud. You’re working very hard and I know that when you are all graduated from this hallowed school, you are all going to change the world!”  
More cheering. Sirius was getting used to this public-speaking thing and he knew enough not to step on his applause-lines. When it had settled, he continued: “Now the administrative stuff that none of us like. One – Exams begin Monday, June seventh. Last day of School is Friday the eighteenth of June. Departure day is Saturday, for those of you who choose to leave via the train. For those of you Apparating home, you can leave Friday night, so long as you check in with your head-of-house or the Deputy Headmistress. The dorms close to students on Sunday the twentieth. In other news, Spring Quidditch matches begin this coming Saturday, the First, at 10 AM. The match-ups will be posted in the house common-rooms. Team-captains? Please have your final line-ups submitted to Madame Hooch by no later than tomorrow night at 5. Any students who are down-checked for flight have to be replaced in your rosters no later than Wednesday.”  
Sirius took a breath and looked around to see if what he had had to say had caused any consternation. Seeing none, he continued. “For you seventh-years, career-counselling starts next week. The DMLE will be here, along with the Society of Potioneers. The following week, the IWC will be here to talk to anyone who is interested in working for them. They have lots of openings and are always looking for the best. I expect Hogwarts students to dominate those interviews!”  
The seventh-years erupted in applause and there was a good bit of hooting and hollering before they settled back down. Sirius grinned at them. “It wasn’t so many years ago that I sat where you are sitting now. It’s hard for me to believe that I am here, talking to you, but there it is. I know that you all are going to do great things and I am very excited to see where you end up. I do hope that many if not all of you go on for your Masteries. That will open up your opportunities even more.”  
The thought of more schooling kept the seventh-years subdued. Not a single one of them could even conceive of doing three more years of school. They were already exhausted.  
“Finally, I want to say to the rest of you that Hogwarts will be opening a week late this coming fall. Monday the Sixth of September will be the first day of classes. Your professors need the extended break and we need to be in line with the rest of the non-magical world in terms of our schedule. It will make everything easier and at the same time, it will give you all a few more days of holiday.”  
There was a wave of applause for this significant change of schedule. “Yes, yes. I know. Anything for a couple more days off. Well, think of it as a reward for all of your hard work. Now, last announcement. We will be hosting a Ministry inspector this fall. If it is the person I suspect, she is not a nice person. We will all have to be on our guards. I will have more to say on this when I know more. Until then, thank you. Enjoy the rest of your dinner and then get a good night’s sleep. We’re back at it tomorrow morning.”  
Harley looked at Hermione and squeezed her hand under the table. The change in schedule gave them eleven weeks off between spring and fall semesters, which was a lot. The change in classes, especially Math, meant that they were going to have to work hard during the summer break. Not on the courses that required (or relied on) magical power, but on the courses like History, Math, Computational [Analytical] Chemistry (which used to be called Stoichiometry), that required real study and practice.  
Both Sirius and Isabelle had told them that if the two of them expected to be leaders in the world, that they were going to have to be the very best, at Magic and at the places where so-called ‘muggle’ courses intersected. Albus Dumbledore had been an Alchemist and he had been a genius at it, but he had never been a Chemist. Potions – the art of blending magic into chemistry – was one thing, but transmuting one element into another was something else altogether and there was only one real Alchemist left… Nicholas Flamel. When he died, the art would die along with him. Hermione and Harley both knew that they were going to have to spend several summers with him, just to learn the basics of that art, in order to keep it from dying out of the world.  
Harley privately thought that Neville was going to have to join them in studying under Flamel. He was a prodigy when it came to plants and plant-derived products. Could that be extended to potions? With a competent teacher who was willing to take the time to coach him one-on-one? And what about Draco and some of his friends? How interested would he be? Could he be convinced to keep studying each summer? How would Lucius react? Would it be better to talk to Narcissa? Narcissa had been on the verge of getting her Potions Mastery, hadn’t she? Isn’t that what she had said during their dinner at Samhain? Harley made a note to herself to send Hedwig to her with a note after dinner. She wasn’t sure how many she could convince Nicholas to teach, but the more that knew what he had to teach, the better.  
As Harley thought about it, the chatter went on all around them. Dinner was winding down and desert would soon be served, along with tea. She looked across at Draco and smiled. He seemed happy and that was good. When Draco had started at Hogwarts, he had seemed both dour and angry. That was no longer the case. He was coming into his own, with his phenomenal talents on the broom, and his talents in the classroom.  
Hermione looked at her wife and smiled. She could feel the love that Harley had for her and it gave her such power and confidence that she couldn’t even express it. She used her free hand to touch Harley’s right thigh, and wished that she had the daring to vanish Harley’s skirt, so that she could make her cum. Unfortunately, her dress skirt was too long and too heavy to do that and she was wearing warm, woolen tights. Not that she couldn’t vanish them… that was even less than a passing thought to do, but she couldn’t do it without other people catching on that something odd was going on. In the spring, however…. They’d be wearing knee-length, plaid, lightweight skirts. Then she could get away with just about anything.  
She was also going to have to teach Draco how to please a girl that way, and do it subtly. She knew it would be easier to convince Daphne and Tracey to let it happen (if they wanted it to happen) and not be embarrassed by it. Both girls had come away from their first experience with Draco happy and satisfied, as well as unembarrassed.  
She wondered though if either Tracey or Daphne had the chutzpah, the daring, to pleasure Draco that way. It was one thing to talk about it and quite another to have the courage to pleasure one’s love to climax, in the Great Hall, at dinner, and do it in such a way that no one at the Head Table notices. The thought made her horny again, which wasn’t unusual. Lots of things did that. It didn’t help really that she was wearing two of the toys that her mother had sent along: the glass butt-plug and the stainless steal dildo. She loved the feeling of being stuffed with cock. It was the one thing about being with Harley that was a challenge. No cock. Yes, there were magical substitutes, but it wasn’t quite the same thing. The toys helped. They weren’t perfect, but they helped.  
Every step made her pussy cream in pleasure and that felt well ... wicked. She wondered if her mother would suspect that under Hermione’s pretty, pink cotton panties were sex-toys just like her mother used.  
Harley knew, of course. One of their favorite intimate activities was mutual masturbation with toys and one of Hermione’s favorite things was getting her pussy licked while having her bottom stuffed full with a dildo. Harley had confessed, during one of their heated sessions, to having a fantasy about Draco fucking her up the ass while she licked Hermione’s pussy. We’re going to have to try that at some point was Hermione’s immediate reaction.  
The other dirty thought that Harley had, which Hermione was bound and determined to fulfill for her, was what Hermione called ‘panty-kissing’. It was Harleys’ fantasy to strip each girl in their dorm in turn, and kiss her all over, until she reached the girls’ panties. Then she would take her time and kiss her way all over the girls’ panties: caressing her bottom and then making every effort to get the girl to cum, with her fingers and tongue – and then have the same done to her. It was a harmless, but immensely, almost palpably erotic fantasy by Hermione’s way of thinking and she was looking forward to seeing it happen. Maybe before the end of the school-year.  
Neither Hermione nor Harley knew that they were at the center of most, if not all, of the sex-fantasies dreamt in the school by those who were fourth-year or less, but both girls suspected, since they were on the receiving-end of so many longing looks and more than a few anonymous notes that basically said something along the lines of I want to sex you up. Hermione wasn’t exactly upset about that. Surprised, yes. Upset, no. It was flattering to be desired after all and the reality was that nobody was going to ever touch her without her active consent – or live to tell about it.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Hogwarts School - Friday, April 30th, 1993**

Sirius Black looked out at his Transfiguration class and shook his head. The ‘squirms’ had come to Hogwarts and it was causing no end of headaches and disruptions. It was, unfortunately, something that affected only the female half of the school. The boys were fine for the most part, if a bit distracted by the miseries now affecting their female companions.  
The ‘squirms’ was a euphemism for the discomfort that the girls were suffering because of the collective onset of their periods. It hit the 3rd through 6th-year girls particularly hard and made them literally squirm in their seats. They couldn’t focus sufficiently to do the magic that was being asked of them and had a hard time even answering questions.  
One thing about being in a boarding school was that all of the girls more or less coincided in terms of the timing of their periods. It had to do with hormones in close proximity over a number of months and it was a peculiar kind of magic, because it knew no boundaries and respected no differences in age. Every one of the female professors who was of an age to still suffer the indignities of a menstrual cycle was similarly affected - to the point that Poppy Pomfrey had to call in additional help from St. Joan’s Magical Hospital in France and St. Patrick’s in Dublin. Even Isabelle, whom Sirius thought was a resolute, physically and magically strong woman, was affected to the point that she declined his amorous approaches that very morning and went back to bed – with a hot-water bottle, a potion that Poppy had given her, and a mug of hot chocolate, spiked with “Cinful Cinnamon” liquor – by the same people who made Ogden’s Fire Whiskey. Sirius had no idea that being physically strong had nothing to do with how her cycle affected her. It was a lesson that he would learn, even if Harley had to beat it into him.  


**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Three days passed while Hogwarts sorted itself out. The male professors were hard-pressed to handle the additional responsibilities that had been thrust upon them while their female counterparts were indisposed, but with the stellar cooperation of the male leaders of each house, they muddled through. By the fourth day, things were beginning to settle out and the girls more or less had returned to class. A couple of girls were particularly hard-hit and they were under Poppy Pomfrey’s care, but the rest had taken their potions and gotten back to their studies. Not that all of them were in a great mood, because that would be a lie, but most all of them were at least tolerable to be around.  
Some students (boys) had felt a renewed, if artificial, sense-of-self when the girls were incapacitated and weren’t quite ready to yield when the girls, particularly those in the H’Reem returned to class. Cormac McLaggen was one such. Harley had already identified him, privately, as someone who might pose a problem and had warned Hermione that she should not allow herself to be in a room alone with him, but had privately hoped that her shows of strength would keep him quite and prevent him from doing anything stupid. Not that she was trying to ‘keep him in is place’, because that was definitely not how she thought about it, but she did want to make sure that he didn’t take a run at Hermione.  
It was unfortunate that the Gryffindor common-room became the place where the young man would open his mouth, loudly and boorishly, and to his detriment.  
The Friday-night gathering of Gryffindor House was usually a time for everyone to knock back, drink a Butterbeer, eat a couple of Bernie Bott’s Every-Flavor Beans as a lark, and catch up with friends.  
Harley and Hermione, along with their roommates, appeared in the middle of the room, silently – but right into the middle of a game of Exploding Snap.  
“Oy! Bitches! Get the fuck out of our way! You’re ruining the damned game!”  
Harley turned and looked. She wasn’t used to being sworn at. Cormac McLaggen looked at her, sneering.  
“Get out of the way, bitch. We’re playing snap.”  
The rest of the players, seeing a situation developing, backed up, until they were crowded along the walls, watching. Finally Harley said, “Excuse me? What did you call me?”  
McLaggen didn’t seem to understand the situation he was in, and to his detriment, no one was willing to inform him, since they all wanted him to get what was coming to him. It’s not often that Murphy lets you watch.  
“I called you a bitch. You’ve been running around here from the moment you arrived, acting as if you own the place, and can do whatever the Hell you want.” Reaching for his wand, he started in again on her, “Well, I think you’re nothing but a bi…”  
He never got the word out. Hermione had heard enough and wasn’t willing to have her wife denigrated yet again by a 5th yr. snot who had delusions of adequacy. Suddenly, McLaggen’s world was filled with pain. His bits were caught in a crushing magical grip and his whole world was filled with mind-altering, even soul-destroying pain.  
The boys in the room all gasped in sympathy as McLaggen screamed and fell over, clutching his sex with his hands, as if he could somehow ward off the agony. And then, as quickly as it started, it was gone. He was sobbing by now and it was clear that, at least for a few minutes, he wasn’t going to do much more than writhe on the carpet – but he hadn’t been injured. Hurt, yes. Injured, no.  
Hermione turned to the assembled group. They could tell she was seething with anger. “Ok, so what have we learned here tonight?” She paused for a moment to have the lesson sink in. “One. Don’t you fucking ever insult my wife!” She looked around, seeing if there was anyone she wasn’t getting through to. She didn’t see any further antagonism, but she knew from what her mother had said in her letters that some degree of resentment was always going to be present.  
Still furious, she said, “Second, and I don’t like repeating myself… don’t challenge us magically. Seriously. There’s not a single Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin who has the power to take us on and even all together, you’re no match for us. Are we clear?” She leaned into each of the last three words.  
Heads nodded all around. Pretty much everyone except for McLaggen understood that taking on someone who can literally move mountains is just cosmically stupid. Finally, the Weasley twins walked over, grabbed the offending fifth-year by the arms, and disappeared with him. Hermione hoped that they wouldn’t go too hard on him. She had done enough to get his attention and hold it while she demonstrated her anger at him and he didn’t need anything more.  
Calmed a bit, Hermione continued. “Good. Now, Harley and I are not out to hurt anyone. We can’t help what we are – and we’re not going to apologize for it. We want to be friends with everyone, we really do… but I’m not going to put up with being insulted, either. And neither is Harley.” With that, she turned and walked over to her wife.  
“You were awfully quiet, love.” Hermione said as she wrapped her arms around her wife.  
“I know. I didn’t want to appear petty by doing something stupid to him and if I had acted, I might have.”  
“So you let me handle it, which was perfect, love.”  
Harley pulled her close and gave her a fierce hug, which she returned in equal measure. “I love you, Harley. More than I can describe.”  
Harley tangled her fingers into her wife’s hair and pulled her close, to kiss her and hold her. Her period was winding down and her moods were more stable, but she was still feeling sensitive.  
Kids around the room watched as the two girls kissed. They knew that Harley was the less stable of the pair, and thought McLaggen lucky that it was Hermione who taught him a lesson, because he might not have survived any lesson taught by Harley.  
Most of them had gotten used to the pair’s public displays of affection and really didn’t see it as any kind of a problem. Some, as was expected, were turned on by it and some, three or four, were jealous. It was hard not to be, really. For 8th-grade girls, they were truly, exceptionally beautiful, bordering on being preternaturally so. Hermione’s wild mane of hair matched her personality – big, soft, beautiful – and her eyes, which were a luscious brown that invited a second, third, or even fourth look. Both girls were borderline statuesque (and definitely were so, when wearing heels), with almost ethereal bodies: athletically lean, with wonderfully slim hips, full but not stupidly full chests, oval faces with soft, lovely lips and noses, and in both cases, mesmerizing eyes. Hermione’s brown to Harley’s emerald-green.  
The exercises that they did each day – 500 to 1000 steps climbed plus 75 push-ups and 75 sit-ups – kept them lean and tight, to the point that their routine was beginning to be copied in the rest of the school, with the exception of the female Quidditch players, who had been doing it all along, in order to stay in playing-shape.  
Being in shape led to wanting, or at least not minding, showing off a bit. Since bras were not a thing at Hogwarts, thanks to support-charms, most girls who were old enough and developed enough physically found new ways of highlighting that part of their anatomy. More than a few were blatant about it, keying a transparency charm on their clothing to specific individuals – allowing those who were keyed in to see through the clothing. Others chose to wear only one layer, so that their clothing was more or less translucent in the right light and allowed everyone to see their bodies. The third option was to reveal a lot less, but show off other parts of their bodies. That was the principal reason that Harley often wore black, form-fitting silk pants or something similar on the weekends. They showed off her bottom really well and they made Hermione all hot and bothered, which Harley counted as a total win.  
Ginny Weasley watched from the corner of the room while Harley and Hermione kissed. She squirmed, not because of her period, which really hadn’t started to show up yet with any kind of regularity (it had happened only once, actually), but because watching two girls kiss made her think of her friend, Luna. Luna had started to occupy parts of Ginny’s dreams that made the young, beautiful redhead think that there was a possibility that she liked girls more than she liked boys, but she wasn’t positive yet.  
Ginny had no idea that a good many of the girls around her were at least Bi, if not outright lesbian – to the immense frustration of their parents and/or guardians. Harley and Hermione’s relationship having tripped off a wave of sexual exploration among the students that Hogwarts had not seen before.  
Since Ginny had grown up in a household dominated by boys, they didn’t scare, intimidate, or confuse her. She knew what they were all about because she saw it every day. A penis was no mystery to her. A source of untold laughter, yes, but not a mystery. As her father said, never trust on object when you can’t see where it keeps its brain. That applied to boys as well, but she knew exactly where they kept their brains and it wasn’t on their shoulders!  
Fay watched the common-room ruckus with McLaggen with a certain amount of satisfaction. He had been threatening, bullying, insulting, or otherwise trying to cajole his way into various girls’ panties almost from the moment that school had begun - without success, for the most-part, and she thought it served him right to be on the receiving end of what looked to be an extraordinarily painful reminder of his place in the school’s pecking order. Why was he a Gryffindor? She wondered. His arrogance and his demeaning attitude towards girls especially made him less than stereotypical Gryffindor material.  
She ruminated as well about the fact that Hermione hadn’t even directly looked at him before laying into him magically and then thought about Hermione’s statement, “…even all together, you’re no match for us.” What was it like to walk around with that kind of power? How did she keep it from going to her head? Fay had no idea. She had met Dumbledore just once and that hadn’t been enough of an introduction to really give her a sense of what it was like to be so much more powerful than everyone else. Maybe it was being Muggle-born? She thought about that. Hermione never, ever talked about herself, about what she could do, except in the rare instance when she was trying to get a very specific point across.  
Harley was even quieter, more self-effacing, and more reserved, if that was possible. Oh, she was kind and gentle like her mother, laughed easily, and she gave the most amazing hugs, but she didn’t talk about herself at all. If you got her going at all, she’d talk about Hermione and about how much she loved her or about Sirius and her mother being together. Most of the time though, it was about Hermione. You could see it in her eyes. As a result, it was clear to everyone that Harley saw Hermione as her raison d'être.  
There was also no doubt in anyone’s mind that even looking at Hermione the wrong way was an invitation to a very short life. The Weasley Twins had been scared into compliance and that had been no mean feat, since they hadn’t been scared of anyone (not even the teachers, except the Headmaster) … until now. And if asked, the Twins wouldn’t say anything. All you would see is a look on their faces that spoke of genuine fear.  
Fay wondered if there wasn’t a touch of madness in Harley that she fought to contain when it came to Hermione. It took a fair bit to provoke Hermione. Harley? Not so much. At least one boy had been so scared of Harley that he transferred schools just to get away from her. At least, that was the story for public consumption. The private story, the one she knew to be ‘true-er’, was that he had touched Hermione inappropriately and Harley had gathered up her magic and used it to scare him stupid, with a blood-chilling reminder that if he ever even came near her again, terrible, awful things were going to happen to him.  
She thought about the two boys and one girl who had been stripped naked and brutally canned twenty-five times across their bare asses, in the middle of the school’s main foyer for sexual assault… while the students of all four houses watched. Their screams still haunted her sometimes, even though she knew that the punishments had been just and fair, even if they had been sanctioned by the Headmaster. It had gotten the point across quite effectively that sexual harassment and assault would not be tolerated, most especially if the assailant was older. Harley and Hermione would protect those who could not protect themselves and they would do it without regard to fear or favor.  
It was one of the reasons that students at Hogwarts generally fell into one of three camps, with some overlap. The first group would follow Harley and Hermione to the ends of the Earth. The second group would follow them, but somewhat hesitantly, fearing that there might be a better way, and the third group, which numbered maybe ten or twenty students (like McLaggen) disliked/distrusted and/or actively opposed the girls. Fay knew she was in the first camp and that for her, it was the only choice.  
Of the first group, the H’Reem was the core. These were the girls and boys who had been touched directly by Hermione or Harley’s magic, or by something that one of the two had done for them and not because of fear or bribery, but because of some interaction that they had had with the girls which gave them hope and courage. And they weren’t all Gryffindors. Gregory Goyle, Thomas Nott, and Draco Malfoy were Slytherins through and through – ambitious, hard-working, clever (at least in Draco’s case), and smart, and they followed the girls. So did Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, and many others. Li Qui “Cho” Chang was a Ravenclaw, but she followed the girls as well, for reasons that were private (well, not entirely so, but Fay would never let it be known that she was aware of Li Qui’s dalliances with the two girls). Hannah Abbot, Susan “Susie” Bones, and others were Hufflepuffs – but they were loyal to the girls first, and their house second – for the reason that they knew that Harley and Hermione would always be loyal to them and would live by their promises of support.

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**Monday, May 3, 1993 – Office of the Minister for Magic, London.**

Cornelius Fudge appeared, silently, in his inner office, just the way that he had planned. Looking around, he saw that everything was they way he had left it on Friday and that nothing had been touched. Are the cleaners on strike again? He wondered.  
It pleased him inordinately that he was able to make the 100 km. trip from his home to his office in the blink of an eye and didn’t have to fuss with the crowded, dirty, nasty public floo’s. Not only did it cut time from his commute, but it was private, secure, and couldn’t be traced.  
When he sat down, he saw that there was a memorandum on his desk, marked with a wax seal, and the Symbol ‘Ѵ’, which was a U in modern English, and represented the Unspeakables. Cornelius picked it up, ran some diagnostics on it, and then opened it. It was a note, short and to the point:

 **We need to talk.  
  
\- Croaker.**  
  
Cornelius thought about that for a moment. There were always things that the Unspeakables had their noses in that were worth talking about, but the only truly pressing matter was Riddle’s horcruxes. Cornelius knew that Croaker knew about them because Lord Black had said as much. The question was: Had the Unspeakables discovered something new or found another one? Cornelius had no idea and the only way to find out was to go and talk to them. The next question was even trickier: Should he use his new ability to come and go as he pleased to get down to the Unspeakables’ department or should he keep it to himself. After some reflection, he chose the latter, since he didn’t know when he might need to be able to catch someone by surprise and there was no point in alerting the Unspeakables. Everyone thought that the Unspeakables worked for the Ministry, but the reality was that they really worked for themselves with little or no oversight – since what they did sometimes delved into very, very dark corners of magic – and it was never a good idea to allow too many people to know that certain things were possible… like Horcruxes.   
Cornelius had no idea where his exec assistant was, but that wasn’t his issue at the moment. If Crooker needed to talk, it was probably a matter that couldn’t wait very long.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

It took ten minutes to get all the way down to the DoM, where Crooker’s office was located. Being the Minister, he had the ability to walk directly to whichever department was his destination. The usual defensive magics – the ones that would deter/deflect/distract most people – were set aside for him.  
Walking into Croaker’s office, Cornelius looked around. He didn’t know how many or what kinds of guards Croaker had, but he was sure that they were formidable. The only people who weren’t afraid of Croaker were the Ladies Ross, who weren’t afraid of anyone and for very good reason.  
Saul Croaker was at his desk, fiddling with an object and didn’t see the Minister for Magic enter. Cornelius was inclined to wait, since he was curious about what Saul was doing.  
Finally, the Head of the Unspeakables looked up. He wasn’t smiling. “Cornelius. Hoped it would be you. We need to talk.”  
The Minister for Magic looked at him and then conjured a seat in front of his desk. “Sit.”  
“I’ll stand, thank you. Now tell me what this is all about, because I have work to be getting on with.”  
Saul Croaker looked at him for a moment. They weren’t friends, by any stretch of the imagination and neither had much use for the other. Not that Saul was liked by anyone, really. He was cold, secretive, mis-trustful, vindictive, usury, manipulative, and a control-freak – and those where his good points. Those few who knew him thought him a great deal like Dumbledore, only a great deal younger, with a lot less magical power.  
Fudge disliked the man on principle, since one of Saul’s mandates was selective assassination if necessary for the good of Magical Britain and Saul Croaker relished that responsibility.  
For his part, Saul Croaker thought Cornelius Fudge was, at best, a toady, a patsy for stronger people, and probably a threat to himself whenever he picked up a wand. Saul despised weak witches and wizards – and feared the really strong ones – and he really feared the two Magi who were now at Hogwarts. That kind of power was dangerous to everyone, he believed.  
“We have a problem, Minister.”  
“Which one?” he asked caustically.  
“Tom Riddle.”  
“Yes, I know. Him and his damned horcruxes.”  
Croaker’s eyes flared. “You know about them then?”  
“Yes, yes.” Cornelius said, waving a hand casually. “Lord Black, Lady Isabelle, and the Ladies Ross told me about the situation and what’s been done so far. I also know that you were told directly about the problem, as was the Horde. I can’t fucking believe that Riddle split his soul that many times.”  
“Seven is a powerful number. But he has to be completely mad. Tearing your soul apart that many times has to have completely unhinged him.”  
“Eight times.”  
“WHAT? What are you talking about? Eight? That can’t be right!”  
“Yes, it is. Think about it. There’s Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, Salazar Slytherin’s locket, Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem, the piece that was in Lady Ross, the piece that was in Quirinius Quirrell – which the Horde believes was the main spirit-corpus, and there are three others: one is believed to be in Nagini, his familiar, another piece is in a family heirloom of some kind, and the final piece was the Diary, which Amelia destroyed when the Bulstrode girl was found at Hogwarts. And the good news is that the Diary was, more than likely, the first one made, so that means that at least fifty percent of the bastards’ soul is already gone.”  
Saul Croaker sat, flabbergasted. Splitting one’s soul eight time was catastrophic, magically. Not only was eight a stupidly weak number, from an arithmancy perspective, but it meant that the smallest part of Riddle’s soul was just 1/128th.  
“Lord Black and Lady Isabelle” Fudge continued, “think that Riddle didn’t even know that he had cleaved off a part of his soul the night that he killed Lily and James and tried to kill Harry. They also think that it was the fragment’s small size that allowed Harry to fight it to a stalemate, along with whatever protective magic Lily performed.”  
Saul stopped him with a wave of his hand. “What do you think of the whole business with Harry becoming a girl?”  
Cornelius actually laughed. When he stopped, he looked at the head of the DoM and said, “Well… she’s beautiful, of course. And she’s very much Isabelle’s daughter, which means she’s polite and proper. But… the thing is… my constituents don’t care. Actually, they love her. Harley Janel Ross is as much a girl as one could hope to be, and she’s a powerhouse. Beyond that, she’s rich enough to buy out all of Diagon Alley, all of Hogsmeade, and still have huge amounts left over. Beyond that, she’s got Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy wrapped around her little finger, along with Lord Greengrass, and that counts in a lot of circles.”  
Saul stewed on that information. Not that he didn’t know it already, but it was infuriating to hear, nonetheless. “One of my employees suggested that I duel the girls. I asked him why. He said that it was a guaranteed promotion for him.”  
Fudge looked at him and said, “I take it that his opinion wasn’t welcome?”  
“No, and I told him as much.”  
Fudge laughed, genuinely so this time. “I’m sure you did. The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”  
“Watch it, Cornelius. I’d be more than happy to show you I’m no one with whom to trifle.”  
“I’m sure you think that’s true, Saul. I also think that you’re pissed that two thirteen-year-old girls could wipe you off the map without thinking about it.” Saul started to rise out of his chair at the angrily provocative words, but Cornelius had his wand out faster than the man expected and he settled back down. “You might be better than me, Saul, but I can guarantee that you’re no match for the Ladies Ross.”  
Fudge slowed, and then emphasized his next words. “Either would kill you without so much as a thought and you’d never see it coming. I’m sure it’s lost on you that Harley Ross built a mountain. I’m also sure that you don’t properly appreciate the fact that either she or her wife could wipe out all life in this country without much effort at all. You don’t scare them, because in their world, you don’t matter. Dumbledore didn’t scare them and I know that you aren’t now and have never been Dumbledore’s equal.”  
Fudge didn’t know the bits about Dumbledore trying to use Legilimency on students and both Harley’s and Hermione’s early susceptibility to that particular art. He also didn’t know just how stupidly powerful Dumbledore had been at his height, particularly in Transfiguration (his first Mastery) and Alchemy (his second, and more important Mastery), because Fudge had done his Mastery in Magical Construction and didn’t have much, if any, contact with most of the other disciplines.  
It was clear that Saul was angry with Fudge’s words, however, and for the very reason that he was mostly correct. Saul had never been anywhere near Dumbledore’s league and even though he had been a very good student and had masteries in Charms, Runes, and Transfiguration, he was just naturally outclassed by the old wizard.  
Saul looked at him from where he sat and groused to himself about the truth of the younger man’s words. His next words though were born of the requirements of his position, despite his personal feelings. “Enough. We could threaten and posture all day and it won’t get us anywhere.”  
Cornelius looked at him and realized that, for the moment, he had won. Saul was not his friend, nor really a supporter, but at least he wasn’t an enemy. “Fine. Tell me what else you needed to bring me all the way down here for.”  
Saul leaned back in his chair and thought about how he was going to word his next statement. He was silent for a moment before saying, “So you know about the Horcruxes. And I assume that you’re doing something to support Amelia in trying to find the rest of them and put Riddle through the Veil at the earliest possible moment.”  
“Yes. Amelia has agreed to support me and in return, I’ve agreed to support her, her proposed budget, and give her the leeway to get that done.”  
“Good. Amelia is a good woman. She has a narrow vision of the world, but she’s a good witch and smart.”  
“I like her.” Cornelius admitted.  
“She’s my niece” Croaker admitted; dating himself by saying so.  
That caught Cornelius flat-footed. “Your….. niece?”  
“I’m almost a hundred and ten, Cornelius.”  
No wonder he views the world the way he does. He’s only 55 years younger than Dumbledore!” Cornelius thought to himself. It completely changed the way he viewed the man.  
“Well, that’s interesting. You had Minnie as a teacher?”  
Saul shook his head. “No. She was still getting her Mastery in Cape Town when I was at Hogwarts. Elizabeth Burke was Headmistress when I was in school.”  
Cornelius thought about that. He knew his history pretty well, and if he wasn’t completely out in left field, he was right in believing that Caractacus Burke, the co-founder of Borgin & Burke’s, was Elizabeth Burke’s son. He shifted his weight uncomfortably as he stood looking at Croaker.  
“Sit, Cornelius. I’m not your enemy.”  
Taking a deep breath, Cornelius did so. And it was much more comfortable. “Thank you.”  
“We’re on the same side, Cornelius. If you support Amelia, then I’m not your enemy. I love my niece and I love Neville, though I can’t really come out and tell him so.”  
“You should. He needs a father-figure. If you don’t, you’re going to lose him to Lord Black or Lord Greengrass, either of whom would be happy to mentor him, with an eye towards bringing him into their families.”  
Saul sighed. “That’s actually exactly what I want to see happen. I’m too much of a cynical bastard and far too set in my ways to be a father-figure to him. He needs someone who can keep up with him and give him a father’s love, since his own father may never be able to.”  
“I’m… I’m sorry about that. His father was a very good man.”  
“Frank and Alice Longbottom were two of the best people I’ve ever known, Cornelius. I’m in this job because I don’t know when it will give me a chance to get revenge for what was done to them, but I know that it will, and I live for that day.”  
“Then the best thing you can do is make friends with the Ladies Ross. Your personal mission lines up with theirs.”  
Saul came upright and looked at him, hard-eyed. “Tell me, exactly, what you mean by that.”  
“Oh. If you don’t know, then you’ll love this. You know that Harley Ross was born Harry Potter, right? Well, the prophecy that was made about him says this:

>   
>  **__** __
> 
> _**"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...."** _

****

**\--Harry Potter & the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 37**

Saul closed his eyes and went over the prophecy in his mind. Cornelius smiled, as he had done the very same thing when he heard it from Lord Black. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at Cornelius. His expression was curious. “Who told you the prophecy?”  
“Oh. Lord Black did. You know, of course, where it came from.”  
Saul pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. “Yes. We had a number of things ‘liberated’ from this department. There are only two people who could have broken in, without disturbing all of our wards.”  
Cornelius laughed. When he saw the sour look on Saul’s face, he tried to stop. “I’m sorry, Saul, but it really is funny. It’s as if the two of them are sitting in chairs, at their birthday party, playing with all of the things that they took, and they invite you in to play with all of their new toys.”  
He threw up his hands. “Bah! How the fuck am I supposed to run a department when those two can walk in, whenever they feel like it, and take whatever strikes their fancy, with not even so much as a by-your-leave?”  
“Oh. Well, it may or may not make your day to learn that that muggle device that your people found – the one shaped like a cone? … well, Harley gave it to John Major, the Prime Minister. She left it in his office. He very nearly had a heart attack. Apparently, that device is capable of destroying the entire city of London… all the way out to Bethnal Green – and killing everyone, all at once.”  
Saul’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right?”  
“No. I’m not. I’ve actually never seen John so scared. That was, apparently, one of the smaller weapons of that type that they have. He said that some of the weapons are so powerful that a couple of them could destroy the entire country.”  
The old Unspeakable steepled his fingers and looked at him. “And you’re saying that the Ladies Ross are capable of the same?”  
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”  
Saul Croaker got up from his desk, walked over to the side-board, took out two crystal glasses, reached into another cabinet for a tall bottle, filled with a brown liquid, and then returned and sat down. He poured two stiff drinks. Offering one of them to the Minister he said, “To Muggle Madness”.  
Cornelius took the drink, toasted his host, and then tossed back the drink. It was rich, slightly sweet, with overtones of orange, cinnamon, and smoky notes. It created a fire in his stomach that was altogether pleasant, but didn’t have any of the magical kick that Ogden’s did.  
“What is that?” Cornelius asked, offhandedly.  
“Oh. Well, yes, you wouldn’t know about this. The Yanks make this drink called Bourbon. It’s a whiskey. This one” and he pointed to the bottle, “Is twenty years old. They let it sit in charred oak barrels and it just gets better and better with age.”  
“How much for a bottle?”  
Saul grinned. “Because of the exchange rate, that bottle is about ten sickles.”  
“Sounds like something we could import and make a fortune selling.”  
“That’s your department, Cornelius, not mine.”  
The Minister for Magic thought about that for a second and realized that it was right up his alley. And why shouldn’t he import it? What would be wrong with that. Ogden’s was doing fine, and besides, something new might be the very thing to jump-start a business. Isn’t that what his new finance people were saying? That new products spur growth?  
Saul sighed again, put his tumbler on the desk and said, “Let’s get back to why I asked you come down here.”  
Cornelius did the same and then sat back. “Your show.”  
“We have another problem, Cornelius. Admittedly isn’t is big a problem as Riddle, is still a problem… and here it is. You know who Deloris Umbridge is, right?”  
“Yes. Fuck. What’s she done now?”  
“She’s gone and had herself appointed as some sort of inspector at Hogwarts, in her capacity as junior undersecretary.”  
Cornelius snorted. “She won’t survive the first week.”  
“No, probably not. She’s a known bigot and has a prejudice against werewolves in particular. That’s not going to fly, since the DADA professor is Remus Lupin.”  
“So what’s the real problem? A junior undersecretary, a known bigot, dies of mysterious causes or accidentally wanders into the Forbidden Forest, at night, unarmed, and is never seen again. I’m still not seeing a problem here.”  
“You’re totally correct, except for the fact that she’s been keeping company with a known terrorist who has a bolt-hole in one of the seamier parts of Knockturn Alley. We’ve had an agent following her almost around the clock, and she’s definitely involved in some bad business. So far, we can’t tell what that is, but we know enough to be extremely concerned.”  
“Understood. Anything else?”  
“One other thing, Cornelius. And this is as ugly as it gets.”  
The Minister for Magic didn’t like the sound of that. Nothing ever good came after, “Ugly as it gets”.  
“Am I going to have nightmares because of it?”  
“Probably. I know I did.”  
“Cornelius looked longingly at the now-empty cocktail tumbler on the desk in front of him and wondered if it was still too early to have another one.  
“Alright, spill.”  
“Before I say anything, Cornelius, I want you to know that this is the one and only time that being a Muggle might actually have its advantages.”  
That made the portly man shudder. He couldn’t think of a single instance wherein it was better to be a Muggle, but maybe that was his own, personal prejudice.  
“Just say it.” He finally got out.  
Saul Croaker said, “We found out what was happening with the prisoners at Azkaban.”  
“Rogue dementor?” Cornelius ventured.  
Saul shook his head. “The guards are…. Eating them.”  
Cornelius looked at him and felt the bile in his system starting to rise. He made it to the trashcan before throwing up. Croaker vanished it with a wave of his wand and then handed the Minister for Magic another thumb-full of the Bourbon. “That was my reaction too.”  
“It’s why we don’t get any bodies to bury from the Island.”  
“How… how did this come to light?”  
Saul shook his head. “Better that you not know, Minister. Call it ‘sources and methods’ and leave it at that.”  
“And here I was, thinking that the Muggles are barbaric.”  


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	9. Dawn's New Light - Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a new Quidditch game comes to the magical world; Draco makes a bet and loses, and the Muggles learn to leave Hermione alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 9  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com**

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From Chapter 8…

“Am I going to have nightmares because of it?”  
“Probably. I know I did.”  
Cornelius looked longingly at the now-empty cocktail tumbler on the desk in front of him and wondered if it was still too early to have another one.  
“Alright, spill.”  
“Before I say anything, Cornelius, I want you to know that this is the one and only time that being a Muggle might actually have its advantages.”  
That made the portly man shudder. He couldn’t think of a single instance wherein it was better to be a Muggle, but maybe that was his own, personal prejudice.   
“Just say it.” He finally got out.  
Saul Croaker said, “We found out what was happening with the prisoners at Azkaban.”  
“Rogue dementor?” Cornelius ventured.  
Saul shook his head. “The guards are…. Eating them.”  
Cornelius looked at him and felt the bile in his system starting to rise. He made it to the trashcan before throwing up. Croaker vanished it with a wave of his wand and then handed the Minister for Magic another thumb-full of the Bourbon. “That was my reaction too.”  
“It’s why we don’t get any bodies to bury from the Island.”  
“How… how did this come to light?”  
Saul shook his head. “Better that you not know, Minister. Call it ‘sources and methods’ and leave it at that.”  
“And here I was, thinking that the Muggles are barbaric.”  
 ****

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**5:45 AM, Friday, May 7, 1993 – Hogwarts**

If things were moving at a snail’s pace outside the walls of Hogwarts, it was because of a lethargy born of a lack of three vital things: coffee, Quidditch, and sex. Students inside the walls had those things in abundance.   
Quidditch has started again with a ferocity born of the sudden ability to get out into the spring sun and the lengthening days. Classes had moved outside, except for potions, history, and math, and everyone was happy. Dinner had even moved outside when possible. The Hogwarts elves were learning the art of BBQ, much to everyone’s delight (with the possible exception of the school’s vegetarians, who were invited to eat a portion of the school’s lawn). Elves, Harley and Hermione discovered, don’t like vegetarians.   
The sun had come up bright and glorious, creating a radiant fire in the east. Those students who rose earliest – the Quidditch players and those who were preparing for the spring Football season – found that the tables in the Great Hall had been moved outside.   
Not everyone was used to the changes that were occurring at Hogwarts, but pretty much everyone knew that complaining about the changes, at least out loud, was stupid. Not only did the Headmaster have ears everywhere, but his god-daughter was the most powerful magical on the planet and she didn’t take kindly to people complaining about her god-father. At least complaining without reason. It was one thing to complain that you weren’t graded fairly in a class or that another student had tried to sabotage your potion, but it was altogether different to complain that you were going to be eating outside. The first might be legitimate… the second? Not so much.   
****

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Sirius Black looked out from the parapet that was a part of his office. Facing southwest, it overlooked most of the castle and pretty much all of the fjord. Mount Harley loomed large in the southwestern sky, though the lower two-thirds of it were still draped in darkness.  
Alone with his thoughts, Sirius considered the situation they were in; wondering if Albus had ever found himself in a similar situation. Sirius didn’t trust Albus’ portrait to answer truthfully, so he hadn’t asked him the questions that were plaguing him. He couldn’t ask Minerva’s portrait, because she had never had a magical portrait commissioned – even though many had asked her to do so.   
He also couldn’t ask Isabelle. Yet. Their wedding was scheduled for Saturday, the 7th of August, at the Hexham Abbey in Northumberland. It was a beautiful church, with magnificent gardens, a wonderful center-aisle so that Isabelle could enter, with her bride’s train, and everything. Until their wedding, Sirius was precluded from talking to her about certain things pertaining to the school, its operations, or its secrets.  
The school was facing three threats – two that were immediate and one that was coming. The first was the Basilisk. It was somewhere in the school, alive, and incredibly dangerous. The second threat was Delores Umbridge. She was gathering forces – people who believed, as she did, that his god-daughter and her wife were a threat to the old-line families and to ‘pure-blood’ rights. Under the color of Ministry authority, Umbridge was coming to the school in the Fall as some sort of inquisitor, with the right to judge the teaching and operations of the school. Irrespective of the fact that the knives were already out for her, she could cause trouble, and expose the school’s professors and students to unwanted and perhaps dangerous outside scrutiny.  
The third threat was the Dork Lard. The inner-circle – Sirius, Isabelle, Remus Lupin, Harley, Hermione, Hermione’s parents, Jane Court, and Amelia Bones – knew that Riddle’s spirit was out there, somewhere, and would eventually regain some sort of body. When that happened, he would begin the process of trying to truly re-incarnate himself… but with only, at most, a quarter of his soul. How stable such a reincarnation would be was a subject of intense discussion.   
Riddle would be facing a much-changed world. Losing Lucius Malfoy as a supporter would definitely come as a major shock and kick in the nuts to Riddle. The death of so many other of his supporters would also be a terrible surprise for him. The continued existence of eight of Riddle’s inner circle in Azkaban was a subject of heated discussion. Harley and Hermione wanted to travel to the island and end them.  
Sirius argued against it, not wanting his god-daughter or her wife to kill any more than was absolutely necessary. Isabelle argued, repeatedly, that she should be the one to do it, since she already had many thousands of deaths on her hands and that a few more wouldn’t make much of a difference.   
Finally though, it was Remus Lupin who said, “You served your time, Sirius… and for something you didn’t even do. Let me do this. We know it has to be done and we agree that we don’t want Hermione or Harley to do it. If anyone is going to sacrifice, I want it to be me.”  
Isabelle, Jake, and Miranda all argued against Remus taking on such a task, and not just because of the stain that it could place on his soul, but because of the risk of such a task.  
It had taken several weeks of arguments, back and forth, before it was decided that once school was out for the summer, Harley, Hermione, Remus, and Isabelle would sail close to Azkaban island, much like she had done for Sirius, and Harley would use her power to bring Remus through the wards. She would open a hole in the side of the prison, and give him the Cloak of Invisibility. He would enter the prison, and execute (because there really wasn’t any other word for it) Riddle’s remaining supporters. It was also agreed that if he had a chance to kill Albus, that he would do so. There was no reason to let the old man suffer… but they knew too that while he was alive, he was also a threat.   
****

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When the sun was fully up, and Mount Harley was bathed in warming, yellow sunlight, the students of Hogwarts sat at breakfast and wondered what the day had to offer.   
The spring air was crisp and clean and there was a subliminal hum, an almost palpable excitement among the students. Quidditch was on nearly everyone’s mind, since all of the students had been taught Harley and Hermione’s way of flying without a broom – changing the very nature of the game, and making it 1000x more exciting. It was now faster, more interactive, and more unpredictable. One of the changes was that students could throw the Quaffle with greater accuracy, and from farther away – making the Keeper that much more important. Another change was to the way that the players interacted with the Bludgers. Now they could actually catch the damn things, and throw them, as well as hit them with the beater-bats.   
The final change, though, had garnered the most talk. The Seekers had to be fast and courageous; willing to dive towards the ground at breathtaking speeds, and able to pull out of such a dive at the very last possible moment. This made the position ideal for students like Ginny Weasley, who had taken to flying without a broom like a fish to water. Harley, Draco, Megan Jones, Su Li, Li Qui (Cho), and others were watched with awe as they chased the elusive Snitch. It was not for the feint of heart, for sure.   
Madam Pomfrey watched the practices with incredible trepidation, as she thought it a sure thing that someone was going to either plow into the ground at some ridiculous speed or get creamed by a bludger while flying after the snitch.  
If anyone was having a hard time adjusting, it was Rolanda Hooch. Flying on a broom was all she had ever known and learning how to fly without one had been nothing short of terrifying. Now she was used to it, if you could say such a thing, and she had to admit that it made being a referee easier, since not having a broom under her gave her more mobility and speed. She could fly along with whomever was carrying the Quaffle and watch for fouls.  
The big change to the game was that there wasn’t just one referee, there were three. One watched what happened around the Keeper, one was the chief referee (Hooch), and the third was the one watching the seekers. That referee had to be small, fast, and brave, because he or she had to keep up with the seekers. In this case, that honor had been given to Minerva’s house-elf, Tilly. She was incorruptible and absolutely called fouls as she saw them, with neither fear nor favor. Rolanda Hooch had taken her on as her own elf after Minerva’s passing, so that Tilly wouldn’t waste away magically and of course, Tilly had learned the Quidditch rules because… well, that’s what a good house-elf does, right?  
She was the reason, in fact, that the betting was just nuts among the students. Everyone had a sense that the game would be called fairly because of Tilly, and that meant that there was no way to tell who had the real advantage.  
The final change to the rules was something that many of the students had lobbied for over the years: ‘Red’ cards and ‘Yellow’ cards. The Yellow cards were a warning to a player that he or she was in jeopardy of being sent out of the match, because of a foul, Unsportsmanlike-conduct, infringement on the rules of the game, verbal dissent in front of one of the referees, entering or re-entering the field of play without the referee's permission (illegal substitution), or deliberately leaving the field of play without the referee's permission. Two Yellows and you were out. A ‘Red’ card was an immediate dismissal, because of an egregious, blatant foul, violent conduct, or use of a wand during the match.   
Saturday’s match, the students all thought, was going to be awesome, because it was Draco’s debut as seeker for Slytherin versus Harley Ross, for Gryffindor. The betting was that Harley would get the Snitch, because she was faster and lighter than Draco, but that Slytherin would win the match, because their chasers were slightly stronger. The odds were running 9:7 in favor of Slytherin, but no one knew for certain what was going to happen. One thing everyone was looking forward to seeing was the new uniform, especially the seeker uniforms, since they were made with sleekness and speed in mind. What the people setting the odds knew was that Hermione was Muggle-born and she was Harley’s wife. What they did not know was that being Muggle-born gave her access to all sorts of interesting things…  
 ** _Flashback one week…_**

“What do you mean, Hermione? How can glasses be magical and Muggle at the same time?”  
Hermione looked at the younger girl and smiled. “Ginny, just trust me. You’ll see what I’m talking about immediately.”  
Ginny was mistrustful of anyone who said, ‘just trust me’, but none of them had grown up with Fred and George. However, Hermione had never steered her wrong and had never lied to her, as far as she knew, since she had arrived at Hogwarts. That meant that Hermione had earned at least one moment of trust from her.   
Ginny lifted the pair of glasses to her eyes and looked around. It was immediately obvious that the glasses did, in fact, change the way she looked at the world. She looked up as well and could see the clouds, but wholly differently from the way they had appeared to her before she put on the glasses.   
“Everything is yellow-ish, Hermione.”  
“Exactly, Ginny. These glasses filter out certain colors of light and make it easier to see, especially when it’s bright outside.”  
“Will I be able to see the snitch better?” Ginny asked.  
“Should be able to. It’s small, metal, and would bounce the light if you tried to see it without the glasses. These should make the Snitch more obvious.”  
Harley looked at her wife with love. “I hadn’t thought of these, love. I should have. My mother has a pair at home.”  
Hermione reached out and squeezed her wife’s hand. “They’re still expensive. Buying a pair for everyone on the team won’t be cheap.”  
This caused Harley to roll her eyes and point at Hermione’s ring and at flawless stone which she had made. That made Hermione blush. “Oh. Right. Sorry!” she squeaked.  
  
 _\-- End flashback_

Saturday could not come fast enough for most students, but some had to get through their Friday schedule first. Classes were getting harder and harder, with exams every four weeks and quizzes every Thursday or Friday (whichever was your last class in that subject for the week). That meant that the students had to be on their ‘A’ game all throughout the week and they couldn’t slack off. It also meant that homework had to get done on Friday, if a student wanted to relax and party on Saturday.   
Saturday was, of course, Game Day. It was also Pizza Day, since Harley (in particular) wasn’t about to go without her favorite food simply because she was in school. That meant a trip across the pond, to her favorite pizza shop in upstate New York.   
Pizza for 300 people was a heavy lift, but both girls were determined not to let their friends go without. So it was off to New York, and the Kaatskeller Restaurant, which made the very best pizza that Harley had ever tasted.   
The pizzas themselves were in hand by Friday evening (late), since the next day was Game day and neither Harley nor Hermione were going to have the time or energy to make the shift across the ocean. The elves would keep them cold, until it was time to put them into the ovens, to warm them, before dinner was served.   
Sirius, in his personal capacity as head of the Black Family, sprang for 10 kegs of Butter-Beer and 2 kegs of Jarl’s Fyne Ale to go along with Saturday’s planned festivities. He knew that the students would welcome the Butter-Beer and the staff would welcome the Ale, since most of the time, Hogwarts was a ‘dry’ institution: no alcohol allowed. Not that the older (6th and 7th year) students didn’t manage to bring in some Ogden’s FireWhiskey once it a while or that the professors didn’t have their own private stashes of alcohol, but everyone kept it very low-key.   
The reason for that was the obvious one: alcohol and magic didn’t mix. Since witches and wizards were so very tied to their emotions, meaning that their magic was driven by their emotional states, alcohol had the capacity to make for very dangerous behaviors, towards themselves and others. Witches and wizards who drank to excess were censored and shunned, since they presented a clear and present danger to those around them – and that was true the world over.   
American witches and wizards took things a step further, by all but forbidding their young from touching alcohol until they were 21, which was the legal age for muggle children. They justified this restrictive environment by pointing out that students who didn’t touch alcohol until they were at least 18 tended to avoid ever developing any kind of habit or dependency with alcohol.   
The European view of this was that being so restrictive never taught students how to properly handle alcohol and they observed, collectively, that being so restrictive when students were young tended to foster bad habits when students got older, because of human nature when things are forbidden.   
The ‘yanks’, as the Brits called them, responded saying that creating a more permissive atmosphere had spill-over in other areas, such as sex, and the conservative parts of the U.S just couldn’t deal with that. The Europeans realized this and saw the breathtaking stupidity in it. They knew that American conservatives were fucking stupid and that there wasn’t much that could be done about it. They knew that the difference between genius and stupidity was that genius had limits.  
 ****

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Saturday broke clear and beautiful. Low to mid-70’s, bright blue sky, with very light winds. It was perfect. The students in the audience for the game were decked out in t-shirts of appropriate colors, signifying their house associations, and shorts for the boys and mini-skirts for the girls, while the professors were dressed in dress-slacks and polo-shirts done in their house-colors. Madame Hooch was dressed in all-black, with Hogwarts’ logo on her sleeve and the IWC logo on her chest. So were Tilly (Seeker-referee) and the referees at either end, nearest the keepers.  
When the teams came out onto the pitch, there was a collective gasp, as everyone saw the new uniforms for the first time. The skin-tight, one-piece uniforms were startling. The Gryffindors – Gold, with red piping running down each arm and down the outside of each leg, with a massive red Gryffin on the chest, and the player’s name and number on the back.   
The Slytherins were Silver and Green – the bottom half in silver and the tops, green with silver on the arms. Their names and numbers done in Silver on the back and the word Slytherin was done down the left arm, with the S replaced with an artistically rendered Snake. They were, everyone thought, really amazing uniforms. The Beaters all had thick gloves and everyone wore helmets. The helmets were also new to the game, but had been warmly received, since they would protect against a bludger-strike to the head.   
After the playing of God Save the Queen, the captains of the two teams met in the center: Harley and Draco. Madame Hooch, along with all of the other referees, met them there for the coin-toss. The team winning the coin-toss could elect to receive the Quaffle first, or defer until the opening of the 3rd period of play – which would be the start of the 2nd hour of play.   
Madame Hooch looked at the two team-captains and said, “I expect a clean game, from all of you. I can and I will send players off, if I have to.”  
Harley nodded. She was determined to win, but win fair and square. She wanted to show that she had actual skills and not just power, and that it mattered to her to be seen as someone who played by the rules.  
“Scion Malfoy, you understand the rules? That we can and will send players off?”  
Draco nodded. “Yes, Madame Hooch. I have made it clear to my team.”  
And Draco privately crossed his fingers and hoped for the best, since he really did have cause to worry. Jeffery Boles was not the brightest of players and he was a little too close to the Flint family… and if anyone was going to commit a red-card worthy foul, it would be him. Unfortunately, Boles was the best chaser that they had, since he was lean, strong, and could fly almost as well as Draco. The situation was made worse by the fact that if Boles got sent off, Slytherin didn’t have a replacement for him who wasn’t a danger to himself on firm ground, much less the middle of the sky.   
The discovery by Harley Ross of a way to fly without a broom had come as a shock to the students at Hogwarts. They had all been wedded to the notion of needing a broom and it took her repeated demonstration to begin to make believers of some of the students. Once, however, they started learning… Quidditch became an entirely different game. It was now much more like 3D chess – but considerably faster-moving. The broom companies were going to hate them. With a passion.  
The color-commentary, which was going out live on the Wizarding Wireless (BBC 5 & ¾) became an instant mad-house when the two teams lifted into the air, like so many marionettes being hoisted by strings, but without the strings. The advanced scouts for the nations’ various premier-league Quidditch teams, who were watching from the best seats in the stadium, had a collective heart-attack.   
The commentator from the BBC sports radio group, magical division, was in a melt-down: “I… I don’t believe what I am watching ladies and gentlemen! I would have sworn that this wasn’t possible, but again.. I’m wrong. I’m watching fourteen Hogwarts students flying around without brooms. Yes! You heard me right. Without brooms!! Somehow, someone has learned new magic and is teaching the students at Hogwarts how to fly without brooms! If I sound like a broken record, it’s because this is not supposed to be possible! Everything we know about flying is wrong! Are you hearing me?”  
The All-England team scout, who had come to Hogwarts on a lark, to see what was going on at his old Alma Matre, was shocked into silence as he watched the players flying. Not sitting on brooms, but stretched out, like human missiles. The game was fast… much faster, in fact, than anything he could have imagined. The Quaffle was moving so fast that it was almost a blur. He noticed, too, that the chasers were scoring only about half the time, since the Keeper could defend a ring with his entire body, giving them a decided edge against the chasers.   
Who taught them how to do this? Was the thought in every adult’s mind – at least those who weren’t attached directly to Hogwarts. Soon it would be the question on everyone’s mind, as Quidditch tended to dominate conversations, around the water-cooler and elsewhere.  
The Hogwarts elves, indeed, all of the elves at the school, watched the game (those who weren’t working to set up the evening’s meal or doing laundry), and wondered if they couldn’t set up their own version of Quidditch, specifically adapted to how Elves would and could play it. Dobby thought to ask his mistress, after she was done playing. He was sure that the great-and-powerful Mistress Harley would say yes, but Dobby wanted to be sure.   
Hogwarts’ students watched as a new way to play Quidditch unfolded right in front of their eyes. It wasn’t like anything they had ever seen before and they were going wild. Harley watched from high above the stadium, looking for the elusive Snitch. She was dismayed by the speed that the Slytherin team was showing. They had taken to flying as naturally as anyone could hope for and their passes, back and forth with the Quaffle, were fast and crisp. She knew that her team didn’t really have a prayer. All she could do was find the Snitch and try to end the game on their terms.  
Slytherin House was, of course, going ape-shit with happiness. They knew a juggernaut when they saw one and their team was exactly that. Gryffindor didn’t have a prayer. The beaters – Fred and George – were almost non-existent in the game, since the two Bludgers were just not fast enough to hit anything or anyone. That was something that Harley knew she was going to have to talk to Madame Hooch about. If the bludgers weren’t going to be an important part of the game, or any part at all, they why have them?  
It was a thought she knew she’d have to talk to the other team-captains about as well, but it was something that could wait.   
In the midst of her reverie, she saw a sparkle of Gold and it wasn’t forty feet away. She dove for it and though the little, winged ball was fast, Harley was faster. It took but a minute for it to be in her hand. She dove for the deck, whooping and hollering. The beaters and chasers all broke off as the game came to a sudden and dramatic end.   
It wasn’t until Harley hit the ground that She realized what happened. They had won. Despite the odds, and despite Draco’s incredible leadership of the Slytherin team, Gryffindor had won – by 10 points. 240 to 230.   
When all the teams were finally on the ground, both Harley and Draco realized something else as well. Not a single foul had been called. Not a one. Neither team had had time to do anything but race around with the Quaffle, and neither team had been able to do much of anything but watch in awe as the other teams’ chasers had raced at ridiculous speeds, up the pitch to score.   
Draco looked at Harley and shook his head. He’d been beaten, not because he wasn’t great, but because he had been completely out of position to do anything about Harley catching the snitch. He had seen her go after it, but it was just too late. Now he was going to have to make good on the ill-considered bet that he had made with Hermione. He didn’t know what he was going to have to do, but whatever it was, it was carnal and not something to talk about in polite company.   
****

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**Monday, May 10, 1993 – Office of the Minister of Magic**

If Cornelius Fudge had ever had a scintilla, a glimmer of hope that his job was going to be easy, it died, euphemistically, on the rocks of Mount Harley, or more specifically, at the feet of Harley.   
The papers were up in arms. It was all the wizarding wireless reporters could talk about. Every magical pub, every floo-entrance, and ever alleyway was filled with conversation that contained some portion of the phrase, “Can you believe it? They can fly! Without brooms!”  
He hadn’t even gotten to sit down when a flight of magical messages, inter-departmental memos really, crashed onto his desk. Some of the notes were steaming, meaning that they were so hot that they were about to explode. He had to get to those first, lest they go off and scatter stuff everywhere; making a mess of his already cluttered office.   
The first one was, predictably, from Amelia Bones.   
Cornelius – we’ve got to get a handle on this. It’s not 7am and already, I’m besieged by Aurors demanding that they be taught how to fly, just like the Hogwarts students! Help me. I don’t know what to tell them.  
The second note was from his least-favorite person, Saul Croaker, Head of the Unspeakables.  
  
Cornelius-  
What the fuck is going on at Hogwarts?! My agents are telling me that the students are being taught to fly, without brooms, and that Lord Black is refusing to allow the skill to be taught to anyone outside the school. You’ve got to make him see reason!

V

The third steaming note he should have seen coming. It was from the head coach of the All-England Quidditch Team, Axel Flymore.  
May 10, 1993

Dear Minister Fudge,  
I am writing to implore you to help us, to help England, with the shock that we suffered Saturday. As you are no doubt aware, it was discovered that the Students at Hogwarts School have been taught how to fly WITHOUT BROOMS. I cannot emphasize that point enough. Someone, we don’t know whom, has taught their Quidditch teams, and we have to assume the rest of the students as well, how to fly WITHOUT BROOMS! This completely changes the nature of the game and puts the ALL-ENGLAND team at a major disadvantage, if the teams from the Continent discover how to do this first.   
Please… I beg you to help us. Please speak with whomever is responsible for this at Hogwarts and convince him that this is a secret that needs to be shared.  
  
 _Regards,  
Axel Flymore_

_General Manager, All-England_

Cornelius stewed. He knew that the one person who had the ability and power to share such a secret with the students of Hogwarts was the mountain-maker herself, Harley Ross.   
It wasn’t a comfortable thought, despite their differences in age, in position of authority, and life-experience. Anyone with life experience has at least some modicum of the instinct towards self-preservation, and that instinct warned him away from dealing with the Lady Harley.   
The problem, of course, was that there was nothing that the Ministry could offer her in the way of a bribe, to get her to comply with any of its wishes. She had more money that God and she had more power than anyone else, save for God. Of course, they could threaten to seize her bank accounts, providing that the Goblins were willing to play ball (they weren’t) or they could threaten her position at Hogwarts by trying to have her removed from the school – but that would only work if the Headmaster was willing to cooperate, and since the Headmaster was her Godfather, the chance of that ploy working was the same as a snowball in Hell.   
Cornelius tried to think of a way to get to her somehow, but every idea he had was either really bad or completely disastrous. His mind turned in the direction of Harley’s wife… and then abruptly stopped. In that direction lay suicide. For him, for his family (maybe), for the Ministry, and for anyone else involved. “Leave Hermione alone.” He could hear Harley’s voice: cold, implacable, and filled with a menace sufficient to make War Mages piss themselves. Harley was many things, but forgiving wasn’t one of them. A threat to Hermione would be the end of everything. Even John Major had said, “Leave Hermione alone. Don’t talk to her, don’t approach her, and for God’s sake, don’t even think about threatening her.”   
At the end, there was nothing for it but to go to Hogwarts directly. It scared the piss out of him, but there was no one else who could do it. Amelia wasn’t in good standing within the school, and if the scuttlebutt was correct, had even alienated her niece, Susan Bones. It took someone remarkably stupid to alienate her own niece.   
Gathering his bowler and his wand, he closed his eyes and disappeared.  
 ****

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**Hogwarts Great Hall – moments later**

Cornelius appeared in the Great Hall silently, having successfully bypassed the wards. He looked around and tried to suppress the smile that came to his face. The ability to come and go, even from the most highly warded areas, was an ability such as none of his predecessors had ever had and it made him almost giggle with happiness that he could do it.   
It would have been better if he had timed it so that there was no one else in the Hall. Unfortunately, breakfast was still going on and the faces looking back at him were grinning. It caught him off-guard and he wondered for a moment what was going on. When he turned around, he realized that Susan Bones was standing between Harley and Hermione Ross… and that they had their wands out.   
Most people, that is to say anyone with even two brain-cells to rub together to keep warm with at night, would have realized that facing the three of the most dangerous witches at Hogwarts was indicative of what could be a very, very bad situation. Cornelius Fudge was just marginally smart enough to realize what the students in the school already knew – that this wasn’t a greeting party, except maybe in the ‘let’s string him up’ kind of way.  
It was only by the Grace of God and the sheer dumb luck that Sirius Black was on-hand and adult enough to want to avoid more blood on the stone floor.   
“Minister Fudge” he said, as he walked quickly down the center aisle, “What brings you to Hogwarts?”  
Cornelius was momentarily hesitant to speak of his need while he was being watched the three heiresses. Once he recovered himself though, he tried to ignore the girls and turned his gaze to Sirius.   
“You saw the papers this morning?”  
“Harley, Hermione, Susan. Let him pass. He and I need to talk.”  
Harley didn’t say anything, but she stepped out of the way, taking her wife and their friend with her.   
Relieved, Cornelius stepped into cadence with the Headmaster and the two walked the center aisle, back towards the Head table, but bypassing it in favor of leaving by a side door.   
As they walked, Sirius said, “I’m sorry for that greeting Minister. You know that my God-daughter is paranoid and mistrustful, and it some times comes out in her behaviors. I’m trying to break her those attitudes, but it’s slow-going.”  
Cornelius thought about that for a moment. He wondered why Harley would be mistrustful and paranoid, given that she was so powerful. Then Sirius said something that helped clarify the situation.  
“She’s still worried that someone, maybe several someones, is or are going to try to interfere with her relationship with Hermione. She’s only thirteen and it’s a hard time for her. I think she worries every day that Hermione is going to stop loving her or needing her.”  
Teen angst? Was it really that simple? Cornelius wondered.  
“You were same class as my older brother, Regulus, weren’t you?” Sirius asked, as they walked along.  
Cornelius stopped and looked at him. “Why… yes, I was. Why do you ask?”  
Sirius stopped too and looked at him. “Because, Minister, you and my brother both lusted after Alorah Prewett, Muriel Prewett’s only daughter.”   
That grabbed the Minister’s attention. Alorah Prewett had been one of the most vibrant, most beautiful girls to ever attend Hogwarts, he thought, and he remembered her with no small bit of wistfulness and lust. “I… I didn’t know that. Your brother never said anything about her, and I’m sure I would have remembered that.”  
“He kept his relationship with her very, very private. I know that he was involved with her because of letters that I found that belonged to him, that were from her.”  
That more than shocked the Minister. Alorah had been a Ravenclaw, and one of the best that house had ever produced. That she had had a relationship with a known, even prominent Slytherin, was more than surprising.   
“Now ask yourself, Minister, what you think my brother would have done if someone had discovered his secret and threatened to expose him?”  
Then it dawned on him, because what Regulus Black would have done to someone who threatened him or someone he cared about didn’t bear contemplation. He was an absolute master and curses and charms, especially the nasty, permanent kinds, and wasn’t afraid of using them, since he had been raised in Black family and tutored by Walburga herself.   
Sirius looked at him. “Now think about my god-daughter, think about how much the idea of losing her relationship with Hermione scares her. Think about what she would do to someone who threatened her relationship with Hermione… she who has a shit-load more power than Regulus could have ever even imagined having.”  
“Leave Hermione alone.” Fudge whispered, almost to himself.  
Sirius cocked his head, and then said, “What was that?”  
Cornelius looked at him, and then repeated it, a little louder.  
Sirius nodded. “That’s a very good idea.”  
Fudge looked at him and said, “No, you don’t understand. That’s what John Major said to me. He said, ‘Leave Hermione alone’ and told me that if I wanted a long, quiet life, those were the three key words.”  
Sirius thought about that for a long moment, before saying “I don’t disagree. However, you only have to worry about it if you’re contemplating doing something stupid. And since we know you’re not doing any such thing, you don’t have to worry about it, right?”  
Fudge finally removed his bowler hat and held it to his chest. “Yes, yes. Of course. We don’t have to worry about it. Yes.”  
Sirius could tell the man was nervous, so he suggested that they go up to his office, where Sirius planned to offer the man a stiff drink, even though it wasn’t quite 9:30 in the morning. He certainly looked like he could use it.  
 ****

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**Office of the Minister for Magic – just before Noon.**

Almost giddy, Cornelius Fudge returned to his office with a compromise in hand that wasn’t going to please everyone, but enough people for him to be able to declare a substantive victory to the newspapers and the wireless. The agreement wasn’t perfect (for him), because he wasn’t able to arrange a blanket release of the information (teaching method) that made it possible, but in failing to do so, the agreement all but ensured that Hogwarts would be able to fund its operations for the foreseeable future with the revenue that it expected to gain from teaching people how to fly without brooms.   
The beauty of the agreement, if there was one, was that it set the price high enough that most people would not bother learning it, while ensuring that the secret was within the financial reach of a sufficient number to make it something that they could ‘sell’. That, alone, could be spun as a win-win, since funding Hogwarts was always bone of contention during budget season in the Wizengamot and the agreement would take that concern completely off the table.   
It also ensured that Hogwarts or its designees (really Harley’s designees) could teach the secret without getting sued by the flying broom companies. This suited all of the interested parties, including the Unspeakables, the DMLE, and the All-England team. It would infuriate the broom companies and all the interested parties from the Continent, as they would be totally shut out of learning the secret, but that wasn’t Sirius’ or Harley’s problem. He knew that Harley and Hermione had no use for them - especially the Italians. There was also little love lost on the British (Muggle) government, but that was a separate issue. If they complained… well, they had no enforcement mechanism and a very great deal to fear from witches who could wipe out entire cities in a matter of minutes.   
The one, final thing agreed to was that he, Cornelius Fudge, be taught the secret. He would be one of only a handful of adults who would know, and it pleased him no end. It was something to rub in the faces of both Saul Croaker and Amelia Bones when the time or opportunity to do so came.   
****

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**Late that evening, Draco’s room, Slytherin tower.**

“You did what?” the beautiful, black-haired girl said.   
“Shhhh. Daph! Keep it down.”  
“Draco! How could you have done such a dumb thing?”  
Draco Malfoy looked at his more-often-than-not bed-partner and shrugged. “Everyone was betting on us. You know that. So I made a side-bet… “  
Daphne Greengrass resisted the urge to face-palm… but just barely. Grabbing by him by his tumescence, she looked at him. She knew she had his complete attention, as he was hard and hot in her hand and leaking pre-cum. “You bet on Slytherin, against Her… The greatest natural flyer Madame Hooch has ever seen? The most powerful magic-user on the planet? Are you serious? And now you have to what exactly?”  
Draco couldn’t help but moan, as Daphne used her right hand to stroke his cock gently. It was difficult to concentrate on her question, but he knew she deserved an answer and he wanted to give it to her before they returned to their more pleasurable activities.  
“She… she wants to watch me jack off on her body while Hermione eats her pussy and then she wants me to roger her while she licks Hermione’s pussy.”  
Daphne’s eyes went wide and her breath caught in her throat momentarily while she thought about that scene. For herself, she’d just about mortgage her soul to be able to be in a threesome with the two girls. If being with Draco, who was no slouch magically, was a complete head-rush and a yippee!! jolt to her magic, then being with them would be an experience such as she would never forget, she was sure.  
She also knew that next to Harley or Hermione, she was just ‘plain-jane’ in the looks department. And that was saying something, since she was considered to be one of the best-looking Slytherin girls in close to twenty years. It was widely acknowledged that as far as descriptors were concerned, spectacular, and breathtaking were wholly and totally inadequate. Harley moved with beauty, power, and grace such that they defied logic and Hermione moved with a Goddess’ ethereal beauty, enough to make artists weep and poets forsake the pen, for lack of words sufficient to the task of describing her.   
But the news left her angry, too. Angry that she would never again compare favorably in Draco’s eyes. But angry, too, that Draco had put himself in such a position.   
That thought created stinging tears in her eyes, which alarmed Draco and caused him to pull Daphne close.   
“Hey” he whispered. “Just because I lost a bet and have to pay off, doesn’t mean that I’m going to run out on you. You’re my girl, ok?”  
That caused Daphne to sniffle, and tears to run down her face, but a happy smile to come to her mouth. “Promise?”  
“Do you want me to write a betrothal? Because I’ll do it right now, Daphne.” He was completely serious and Daphne could tell. This caused the beautiful Slytherin girl to launch herself on top of him and seize his mouth with hers.   
“I love you, Draco.”  
Her eyes were bright now as she looked down at him. “Love you too, Daph. Ever since we were little.”  
“As much as you love Tracey?”  
It was true that Draco and Tracey went way back. They had run around the woods together, naked, in their younger days, swimming together in the Malfoy’s private pond, and just generally having great summers together. Tracey had always seen Draco either as a brother or cousin or something and had always trusted him completely – because he had protected her, cared for her, and been the one to lift her up when she was hurt or sad. It wasn’t until they had come to school together that they realized that there might be something more between them. Daphne, on the other hand, had been the one with whom Draco had commiserated; the one on whose shoulder he could actually cry, and the one who had been his first kiss.   
“Promise you won’t say anything?” He asked her, cupping her panty-clad ass with his hands and pulling her closer.  
She grinned and then kissed him again. “I can keep a secret.”  
“It’s…. it’s different with Tracey. It’s like wanting to fuck my step-sister or my cousin, it’s wicked, but impossible to resist.”  
Daphne laid her head on Draco’s chest as she let her quiet laughter out. It made her breasts tickle his chest and that made his cock grow hard again. Once she stopped laughing, she lifted herself up on her elbows. She was smiling with relief and with a certain mischievousness. “Me too. I didn’t realize how much I was lusting after her until the three of us ended up together and she and I kissed while she and I were….”  
“Sucking my cock.” He finished for her; his voice full of want and need.   
Draco’s hard-on was trapped under her, and was rubbing against the front of her cotton panties, which were soft and almost silky. She could feel his excitement and it made her grind herself against him.   
“I can’t go all the way with you Draco. Not yet.” She instantly saw the disappointment fill his eyes. “But I want to try something” she said, before reaching back and struggling out of her light-green, cotton G-string panties.  
“Here” she said, putting the panties into his hands. He looked at her desirously, and she returned the look with smoldering eyes. “I’ve wanted to do this since that first time, when I realized just how hard you get.” He held the panties for a moment, before bringing them to his face and smelling them, before putting them down, on top of his small pile of clothes, which were next to the bed. They were a prize of sorts and sort of a tradition. She smiled as he did so. Her panties were a small price to pay.   
It took Draco a moment to realize what she was going to do, but when he did, it made his cock throb with need. Daphne lowered herself down so that her sex was rubbing against his cock. Back and forth, up and down the length of him, rocking her hips so that every bit of her sex touched him. It was indescribably wonderful. Hot, wet, and erotic beyond anything he had ever felt before, even the feeling of having his cock sucked by two girls at the same time.   
Reaching up, Draco cupped her breasts in his hands, touching them the way he had learned to do over successive nights of snuggling with Daphne. Leaning into his touch, she moaned. She knew she was going to cum soon, because the buttplug in her ass was driving her mad and the hot bar of flesh rubbing against her clit was better than her fingers had ever been. Every time she rocked her hips forward, she squeezed down against the toy and that was creating frissions of pleasure that were rocketing through her pussy, up to her nipples, and then back down.   
As they held hands, Draco looked up at her with… well, it wasn’t glee so much as it was joy and excitement. “I’m going to cum…”   
“Do it! Cum, Draco! Cum on my pussy!”   
His hips snapped upwards as he started to spurt. Daphne met his thrusts with her own; giddy with the feeling of cumming with him.   
“Daphne!” he cried out, locking eyes with her and falling back; his cock still spurting, but more slowly. The magical rush of cumming with her slowly ebbing.   
“Oh! Draco! Oh God. Yes!” His cum was warm, wet against her sex and her belly as a happy, blissful euphoria washed over her and she fell upon him, boneless, happy, and satisfied.   
A part of her wished, even desperately wanted, to fuck him, but she knew she was too young and the act was too dangerous. Sexual union before age 15 could actually destabilize one’s magical core, since it wove a person’s magic together with his/her lover; creating intense, sympathetic magical harmonies. Some Unspeakables had compared it to the effect of muggle combat troops, in marching formation, across steel bridges. It could disrupt the resonant harmonics of the bridge, causing it to collapse.   
“Thank you” she whispered as she cuddled against him.  
“Thank you” he said, just as quietly, but with deep affection in his voice. “You’re the one who did all the work.”  
“Hmmmmm. Felt wonderful.”  
Draco reached down and cupped her ass again; caressing it lovingly and then circling her toy with one of his fingers, making her moan again as he pushed it into her a little bit.   
“Draco?” she said hesitantly.  
“Yes?”  
“Once you’ve fucked Harley, will you come back and do me?” she asked, scared to hear the answer.   
He turned his head and kissed the spot, just in front of her ear, where her skin was butter-soft and her perfume, strong. “I Love you, Daph. Of course I will… but wouldn’t you rather go first?”  
The thought of giving herself to him that way rippled through her. She had been wearing the buttplug almost constantly for the last three months, along with a dildo in her pussy, both in and out of class, because using them helped take the edge of her need.   
The two toys kept her from running off to the bathroom between nearly every class, to rub her pussy and make herself cum. The funny thing was that she had become quite accomplished at walking and cumming at the same time. Not that the other Slytherin girls hadn’t noticed, because they had! And they kidded her about it, but only gently so, since they were going through the same experiences. It was hard to tease someone when you were gripping a railing or leaning against a wall for dear life while cumming.   
If there was a down-side it was that she was having to change her panties two or three times a day and shower every morning as well as every evening. She wasn’t alone in that though and it was something they laughed about in the privacy of their dorm-room.   
“Friday night? So we can sleep in the next morning?” she said, happy to know that Draco wanted what she wanted.  
The idea of taking Daphne’s ass; of claiming her virginity that way, and of giving his to her, made him excited, and she could feel it against her belly.  
She giggled. “I take it you like that thought?”   
He squeezed her ass again with both hands and kissed her, more aggressively than he had before. Daphne gave as good as she got and soon they were moving against each other again. Friday couldn’t arrive soon enough for either one of them.  
 ****

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**Tuesday, May 11, 1993 – Diagon Alley, London**

It hadn’t taken very long, given the existence of self-writing quills, etc. for the news of the agreement between Sirius Black and the Ministry to hit the papers. The Ministry, just as Fudge had designed, touted the agreement as a major step forward and a piece of magic that had long been sought by the general public. It went on at some length about The Fudge Administration’s foresight in bringing this kind of agreement forward, for the benefit of the public and how it helped magical England to lead Europe in new magics.   
The Broom manufacturers, of course, saw it as a major threat and said as much; claiming that brooms had been a staple of magical life in the UK and Europe for more than 1000 years and that this new magic was a threat to that tradition.  
As Lucius Malfoy walked the length of Diagon Alley, he could hear the chatter everywhere and it amused him to no end. He knew that not a single person who was denigrating the agreement would dare to say a negative thing to Harley or Hermione’s face. Sirius and my wife are right. The public is cowardly. Sheep. All of them, he thought.   
One thing about the wealth that he had accumulated, with Harley and Hermione’s help, was that he no longer felt like he had to flaunt it. He knew what he had, was confident in his magic and personal power, and knew that no one could take it away from him. The Malfoy family was safe. Not just safe, but prosperous and happy. Draco was kicking ass at Hogwarts, his wife was pregnant with a baby girl, and all was right with the world.   
As he walked the Alley, he thought about how much had changed for him. His Dark Mark was gone. Ripped out branch and root by Harley Ross, meaning that he was no longer tied to the bastard, Tom Riddle. His life was, finally, his own.   
The Broom and Quidditch Museum was about to open – which he knew would create a hullabaloo – and Draco was slated to become a member of the UK National team, just as soon as he could arrange a waiver to play – which might not be for another three years, but that was alright. Draco would be close to his final magical maturation at that point and he’d be strong enough to play the game at the national/international level. It would take them that long to change the rules, just to accommodate the lack of brooms!  
There were still dark bastards around, and more than a few of them, when or if they learned that he had switched sides, would be out for his head. However, he had weapons now, and he had allies. He no longer needed to grovel at a psychopathic, half-blood’s feet, fearing being tortured for a single, mis-judged word or thought.   
Also, Lucius was well, if not proud of his quiet campaign of self-protection, at least at peace with it. Three of the Dork Lard’s followers were dead now because Lucius had gotten to them before they could get to him.   
There was something to be said for looking out for one’s own interests, and it was something about which Lucius felt strongly: there just weren’t that many Aurors and the ones that were active were mostly responsible for protecting the Statute of Secrecy and making sure that people didn’t do anything to cause unwanted, dangerous attention to be directed at the magical community from the Muggle world.   
Second, it was a truism of the magical world that you either had power, and could enforce your will, or you had to make a conscience effort to avoid drawing the (negative) attention of those who were stronger than you. The Dork lard had been a threat because he had no hesitancy about using his power and getting others to wield theirs on his behalf. With his supporters mostly vanquished, he was much less of a threat – and one that could be dealt with by a few (adult) fairly powerful, dedicated individuals… or, conversely, two really hacked off, tween-age Magi, who just weren’t going to put up with his shit any longer.   
Lucius had no idea that the Crown and its agents and supporters were already aware of the magical world and were working to either contain it or infiltrate it, in order to have a better handle on what was going on or that they knew all about those hacked-off tweens who could end the dork lard’s shit.   
The one thing that gave the magical community in the UK breathing room was the sudden, vast, and amazing piece of land that had been ceded to it because of Harley Ross’ mountain. Mount Harley was huge. A singular peak that rose more than seven thousand feet into the sky, towering above the jet-stream and dominating the land for over one hundred miles in every direction. It was a magical area of 5,026 square miles – and it meant that the magical population of the United Kingdom would have room to grow. And not just by a little bit, but more than quadruple. The 500,000 plus Muggles who had been in the area were leaving, due to the magic that had been laid down to make the area possible. That left store-fronts, houses, and every manner of facility ready-made for takeover by British magicals, and that presented huge opportunities for the Malfoy family.  
He wasn’t the only one, of course. He knew from his sources that the Longbottoms were already looking at multi-hectare parcels that were perfect for magical green-houses and store-owners in Hogsmeade village were already scouting out (surreptitiously) new venues for their businesses. Even businesses from across the channel were looking at places. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and those who got in first would be situated to make fortunes. The locks, estuaries, and riverine areas were so abundant, wild and uninhabited that the magizooligists were going mad with excitement. There was nowhere else in Europe, except for the areas around the Kamchatka peninsula, that was like it.   
What nobody realized was that Hogwarts Castle, over half of the area around the mountain, and almost all of the Forbidden forest was owned by the Ross/Potter family, in addition to the entirety of Hogsmeade, since the Potters were the only surviving cadet branch of the House of Gryffindor.   
****

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**The Queen’s residence, Buckingham Palace, London – Same day**

HRM Queen Elizabeth II, looked down at her tea and sighed. It was cold again. She despised cold tea. Was there no decent way to keep her tea hot? She fumed. So very many things were now possible that hadn’t been when she ascended the throne that it was nigh onto impossible to keep track of them all! Looking out the window, she saw the courtyard of the Palace. It wasn’t a great view, but her private residence had to be there, due to security concerns. She wished that she could change that. She wanted to look out, over the gardens, and down Buckingham Road. More, she wanted rooms for her grandchildren, so that they could stay with her and she could spend time with them, over private meals and such. That would be magical. Then it struck her and she laughed to herself. She had people for that. In fact, she had two such people. People who owed their loyalty to the Crown and owed her, personally.   
Turning to the lady-in-waiting who was always present, but always silent unless spoken to, the Queen issued a terse instruction, which caused the gears of government to spring into action. A formal note was written, on the best stationary possible, and then hot-footed to a separate building and passed it to the watch-officer who was part of the military signals office there. That triggered a call to a very special office at MI-5 and that caused a very non-descript young woman to show up at the aforementioned signals office.   
After a surreptitious walk to a point outside of the palace, the young woman vanished, reappearing in Hogsmeade Village, Scotland. There she visited one of her dearest friends, Rosmerta and the note was passed. Thirty-minutes later, it was in the hands of the most powerful magic-users on Earth, both of whom would remain ignorant of the path that the note had taken to get to them.  
 ****

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Saul Croaker sat at his desk, looked at the front page of the most recent report from his field agents, and fumed. In fact, it was everything he could do to not pull out his own hair and rage. Not a single one of his people had been able to get onto the Hogwarts grounds without being summarily ejected to places all around Europe. Most had turned up, naked, in forests and swamps, with nothing more than their wands, which made them furious, since they had never encountered resistance before. Some had been sent as far away as the eastern side of Poland, or as far north as the arctic circle and had taken many days to get back to London.  
Now all he could do was read the papers and listen to the wizarding wireless, since Hogwarts was effectively otherwise radio-silent. No messages were getting out, since there were no agents in place – meaning that the sons and daughters of the people he would otherwise count on to gather information on his behalf had been suborned by the Ladies Ross. Even the Hogwarts Board was silent, and they were usually a very leaky bunch. It was as if word had gone out: Don’t talk to anyone about Hogwarts business.  
He wasn’t alone in his frustration. The head of MI 5 & 3/4 was feeling the same way, and his head was the one that was going to be on a pike if something wasn’t done to get more information about the magical world. He had no idea that he and the Head of the Unspeakables were working at cross-purposes. Not that he knew who the Unspeakables were, really, but the point held. The difference was that Saul Croaker’s people had no problem with killing the agents of MI 5 & ¾. Their mandate was absolute as they saw it, and only the muggle Queen herself got to know about magic. It was something that was, inevitably, going to lead to a clash. Neither man knew it, and it would haunt them.   
****

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The problem with a war is that you don’t always know who all the players are. This was particularly true for John Major’s government. Part of the problem was that the identities of the major families that let the magical world in the United Kingdom were unknown to the Muggle government. They didn’t even know, for instance, who Harley Ross’s parents were, or Hermione Granger’s. Not for a lack of trying, of course, but that information, and other crucial details, had eluded them so far. It was infuriating. Magic was proving to be a barrier to almost everything that the government thought critical to know.  
What was worse was that often, its agents – mostly MI-5 & MI-6, as well as the few MI-5 & ¾ agents that they had, would try to follow someone, only to have that person up and disappear right in front of them. When they reported that, their reports were almost immediately marked Top Secret and suppressed, or sent to a special archive that was accessible by only a relative few, which had the net effect of making those reports disappear.   
In a different era, Hermione might have been thought of as a Russian or East German agent, because she had no records in the system and there was no way to track her, which was something that the Counter-Espionage agents often saw when they started digging into someone they suspected of spying. The Russian muggle government could only wish they had agents that could disappear so effectively.   
The whole situation put the top-most people in the government into a bind. They could not stop searching for information about the magicals because, in their minds, the magicals constituted a legitimate potential threat, but they also didn’t want to antagonize them unnecessarily, since doing so might provoke a heated and dangerous reaction. It was the only reason that they didn’t put out a BOLO on the magicals about whom they did have information (and a picture).   
There was also the edict, written in legalese, straight from the Prime Minister’s office, to the Office of the Crown Prosecutor, MI-5 and MI-6, and every other department in the government that essentially said, “Leave Hermione Jane Granger Alone”. That, of course, had set off a wave of quiet but furious efforts across the country that directly countered the edict, even down to local law enforcement officers, to find out who she was and why the PM wanted her left alone. That’s when they ran into the proverbial stone wall.  
The stone wall existed because, besides a couple of school photos and some primary-school records, they had nothing to go on. No National Insurance Number, no passport number, finger-prints, nothing. There were some old, blurry security-camera pictures that may or may not have been her, taken from around Sussex, but nothing concrete.   
The squibs, half-bloods, and others ‘in the know’ about the magical world who got wind of the efforts made sure that word got back to Hogwarts that the government, at various levels, was looking for Hermione and that didn’t make anyone happy, most especially Harley.  
The difficulty was that there was an ongoing question about what to do about it. It pretty much kept Hermione from being able to travel anywhere in muggle areas (at least in the UK) without a glamour, and that was frustrating. She didn’t want to cause a scene with the local LEO’s – one that might endanger the Statute of Secrecy – but she felt that it really put her into a bind and made it difficult to live a normal life.  
Hermione, of course, was head-strong when it came to rules. Unless the rule made sense to her, she ignored it. It was why she went home for Saturday dinners, since Sunday dinner at Hogwarts was all but an iron-clad requirement, and not something she’d miss in any case.   
****

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**Just after 7pm, Saturday, May 29, 1993 - Merchants of Spice Restaurant, Norwich, UK**

Miranda Granger was in her element. Indian food was something she relished and there was no better way to celebrate her 32nd birthday than to have her husband, daughter, and daughter-in-law all together for dinner.   
It was even better as a celebration that her daughter was the one paying the bill, since she was the sole heiress of a fairly vast fortune in her own right and was marrying into a family that had, if her daughter understood the situation correctly, more money than God or king Midas.   
Since they were in one of the private back rooms, at Hermione’s request and the manager’s acquiescence, after some large pound-notes had been artfully slipped to him, they didn’t see the two Sussex Police officers enter the building.  
As they usually did, Hermione and Harley sat side by side, Harley on the left and Hermione on the right, so that their dominant hands would always be free. Both girls had their Athames strapped to their outer thighs, so that they were available if needed. As witches, they never went anywhere without them. Each girl also had her wand, though they didn’t often need them.   
Dinner had just been served when the two officers entered the back room. One was holding a small picture. Because their backs were to the wall, Hermione saw them first, since she had just lifted her chai tea to take a sip.   
Harley felt Hermione tense up and that’s what caused her to look up. When she saw the two police, she quietly said to Hermione’s parents, who had also just seen them, “this could get ugly. Don’t say anything and don’t react.”  
Jake Granger started to stand when Harley shook her head imperceptibly. He eased back into his chair. Hermione reached for her wand, at the same time Harley did. They were better tools for up-close and personal work, since both girls tended to overdo their spells when casting wandlessly or when they were tense. The wands forced them to be more precise. Jake saw them palm their wands, so that the officers couldn’t see them.   
One officer approached the table, looked down, and said “Are you Hermione Granger?”  
Hermione nodded. “I am. What’s this about?”  
“You’re wanted for questioning.”  
It was at this point that Harley looked up and said, “Ah. No. I don’t think so.”  
She didn’t waste time. She stunned him, so that he’d not be waking up for a very long time. The other officer, seeing his partner collapse, went for his gun. She stunned him too.   
Looking down at the two unconscious officers, she said “If these two are here, there are others, probably outside.”  
Harley nodded. Hermione was all but shaking with rage and Harley didn’t want to give her an excuse to go out and lay waste to whichever officers were waiting for them.   
“Dobby!”  
Hermione hated to call the little guy, but they needed his help.  
Dobby arrived with a very muted, !pop!. “What can Dobby be doing for his mistresses?”  
Harley rubbed the bridge of her nose and then said, “Dobby, can you remove these two, and transport them somewhere, preferably twenty or thirty miles away? I don’t care if you dump them in the woods or whatever, but they’ve got to go.”  
“Dobby will move stupid men. No one bothers mistresses!”  
Hermione was still shaking with anger. “Dobby… strip them when you dump them. I want them cold and miserable. And when that’s done, dump their car in the middle of Stonehenge.”  
Dobby nodded with glee. With a snap of his fingers, he and the two policemen were gone. Harley looked at Miranda and said, “I’m really sorry. I think we’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest and they’re not going to leave us alone until they get answers. Answers which Hermione and I are not prepared to give them.”  
“And having two officers dumped in the middle of the woods, naked, and their car dumped at Stonehenge isn’t going to cause more problems?”  
“No, not really. It will give them wholly separate mysteries to investigate – ones with no answers at all – and the possible sacking of two officers who stuck their noses into our business.”  
Jake thought about that as they returned to their meals. “You know, in about twenty minutes, someone’s going to come in and try to find out what happened to the first officers.”  
“Maybe. Maybe not. I think they were free-lancing and we don’t’ have to worry about it. Besides, now we know that there might be a problem and that’s better than not knowing.” Jake couldn’t argue with that, and it was true that there was no sense in letting good food go to waste. He worried, as all fathers worry, that his daughter was involved with things that were dangerous, but he also realized that she was particularly well equipped to handle them, since he had seen her pull meteors out of the sky and do other impossible things.   
****

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A half-hour went by with no further disruption, which the four of them counted as a total win. When they were finished their meals, Hermione called the manager and their waiter over, modified their memories such that they didn’t remember anything about police or disruptions or strange-looking visitors with long ears, and then paid their bill.   
As they walked out the back door of the restaurant, Harley looked around. The coast was clear. She looked at Jake and Miranda. “You know the drill. Take our hands and then close your eyes.”  
When the two adults had done so, Hermione and Harley touched them and the four of them disappeared into inky blackness, with not so much as a whisper for the night air to carry.  
The CCTV cameras, which the local police had installed, never saw a thing, since they were pointed in the wrong direction.   
****

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	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 10  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
the_scribbler (at) shadowguard (d*t) com**

Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE. CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein. ****

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**From Chapter 9….**

A half-hour went by with no further disruption, which the four of them counted as a total win. When they were finished their meals, Hermione called the manager and their waiter over, modified their memories such that they didn’t remember anything about police or disruptions or strange-looking visitors with long ears, and then paid their bill. As they walked out the back door of the restaurant, Harley looked around. The coast was clear. She looked at Jake and Miranda. “You know the drill. Take our hands and then close your eyes.” When the two adults had done so, Hermione and Harley touched them and the four of them disappeared into inky blackness, with not so much as a whisper for the night air to carry. The CCTV cameras, which the local police had installed, never saw a thing, since they were pointed in the wrong direction. ****

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**Office of the Chief Inspector, Sussex Police sub-station, 10 Southway, Colchester – Tuesday, June 1, 1993**

Chief Inspector Brandy looked at the report on his desk and wondered, for about the fifth time, whether someone was having him on… but the pictures didn’t lie and he was forced to accept that somehow, someone had dumped one of his unit’s vehicles in the middle of the gated-off, secure site known as Stonehenge – two hundred and seventy-three kilometres away, and dumped two of his officers, naked, at two separate spots; one in the forest off Plumstead Road East and the other in Blofield Heath.

Neither officer could remember how he had gotten there and each swore that he hadn’t been drinking, which was backed up by their subsequent toxicology reports. Curiously, the two had been assigned to the same vehicle on the night of May 29th and both had been dispatched by the Officer of the Watch that evening to detain a ‘person of interest’ for questioning.

Digging through the paperwork from May 29th, Chief Inspector Brandy saw that the two officers had been sent to detain one “Hermione Jane Granger”, based on questions that the Chief superintendent for the Sussex Police had. Nothing out of the ordinary there, really, except… Hadn’t he seen a dispatch from the Attorney General’s office in London?

The Inspector rooted around his desk until he found the folder that he was looking for. Opening it, he saw that there was basically an edict from the Attorney General that had originated in the PM’s office. Finding that, he sat back to read.

Ten minutes later, he sat upright and swore. Fuck. The PM had sent out an edict that said, quiet explicitly, that Hermione Jane Granger, age 13, was to be left alone. According to the edict, she was never to be approached by law enforcement, under any circumstances, for any reason, and that under no circumstances was she to be detained. It made her, if not totally immune, then almost so. It didn’t give a reason, but said that under the PM’s authority to determine actions of the government that were in the national interest, that it was in the national interest to leave her alone. He had never seen anything like it in his adult life and if the letter hadn’t been authenticated, he would have sworn it was a practical joke or something.

And so a couple of our officers were dispatched, somewhere, to try to detain someone we had explicitly been told to leave alone. Great. David Brandy sat back in his chair and shook his head. What a cluster-fuck, he thought. It didn’t answer, of course, the underlying questions about how his officers ended up naked, at night, in the forest, or how their car got dumped in the middle of Stonehenge, but he was confident that he would find something that might explain at least a part of their mystery. Oh well. Send it up the chain. Let’s see what happens. ****

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**Hogwarts – Thursday, June 3rd, 1993**

Remus Lupin looked about his classroom and wondered what he was going to do next. Finals were beginning soon and the school year would finish in fifteen days. He still hadn’t decided what he was going to do for the third, fourth, and fifth-year finals, since all of those students, more or less, had been taught not by him, but by Harley and Hermione Ross. It was something he had talked over with Sirius, but they were both at a loss still.

_**Flashback – Monday, May 30th – Headmaster’s office, after dinner**_

“Remus… come in. You wanted to talk?” Sirius watched him as he took off his day-robe and hung it up on one of the freestanding hooks in the corner of the spacious office. A chair scooted itself over to where he stood and insisted that he sit down, by banging him in the back of knees repeatedly. He finally acquiesced, flopping down in a huff. Sirius looked at his long-time friend, leaning back against the overlarge desk that dominated the room. “What’s got you in a huff?” “Your goddaughter, as usual.”

Sirius snorted. “What’s she done now?”

“Nothing, and that’s kind of the point.”

“I don’t follow.” Sirius said.

“Well, normally, we’d test the fifth-year students for counter-jinxes, defensive spells, the Boggart-Banishing Spell, and for extra credit, the Patronus Charm, right? Just like we went through, right?” “Well, yes. So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that Harley and Hermione have already taught those things to the third and fourth-year students, and tested them.” “Oh… ok. So what are you going to do?”

Remus rubbed at the scars on his face, which was sort of a nervous habit for him. Werewolf-scars were notoriously hard to heal and they lasted a very long time usually. “That’s the point and the problem. The things that your goddaughter and her wife are now teaching them I’m not sure how to test.”

“Like what, specifically?”

“Spell-chaining, for one – without a wand.”

“Hide-and-Seek, using that new Apparition that they won’t teach us.”

Sirius nodded. That was becoming more and more problematic, since you can’t test what you don’t know. “What else?”

“It gets worse from there, Sirius. Grouped piercing spell, for one. Water-boiling charm, but for a very dark purpose, for another.”

That made Sirius shiver. The very idea of using a water-boiling spell against someone was just this side of horrifying. “Anything else?”

“Well, she hasn’t taught anyone the stuff she showed you, apparently, but she did show them how to do the _Lumos Stellarum_ spell and I heard that some of the students are trying to figure out how to modify it.” The _Lumos Stellarum_ created a light much more intense than the sun. It had one use: Vampires. It would burn them down instantly. Done with Hermione’s power though, it could be a weapon of horrifying consequence.

“They’ve also been teaching the students how to banish Boggarts by turning its primary weapon against it.. by making it afraid.”

“And if they can do that, they could learn how to control that power and turn people’s fears against them.”

“Exactly. And how the fuck am I supposed to test that?” Remus asked.

There are always tests in the life of a Headmaster and this was Sirius’ first. Much more so than the Basilisk had been (which they still hadn’t found and killed yet, but that was a matter of time). “Fuck me if I know, Remus. You’re the one with the Defense Mastery.”

Remus wrinkled his nose. “Big help you are, Sirius.”

Sirius slapped the desk with his right hand and then glared at his friend. “What the fuck do you want me to do? I can’t turn them loose against each other, in a dueling competition, and we sure-as-hell can’t turn them loose against anyone else, especially after that cluster-fuck at the European Open Invitational. I suppose we could send groups into the Forbidden Forest, against the spiders, but that could cost us student lives or it could cost us the entire population of spiders, and they do have a use, in some ways.”

“Or we could bring in some Aurors to test the kids. It could turn out to be completely unfair, or it could be incredibly useful.”

Sirius thought about that for a moment. They’d have to get Amelia to agree and the Aurors would have to agree not to try, deliberately, kill the students. He weighed it for a few minutes and then said, “No. The stuff that some of the kids are learning is just too dangerous. We can’t let them loose against a human target.”

“Then we have to use target-dummies and adjust their scores to reflect that they’re not using the spells in real-world conditions.” Remus countered. 

Sirius shrugged. “Well, maybe. I don’t like not testing them in real-world situations, but maybe we fall back to that if we have no other choice. Now, how do we test my goddaughter and her wife?”

“Is there anything that we’re teaching, even through seventh year, that they can’t do yet?” Sirius asked.

“Well… they’ve not hit their final magical maturities yet, so there are some magics that are limited to adult wizards and witches – and you know the ones I’m talking about – but short of those? No, not really. They’re wildly short on theory in a number of areas and they’re going to have to work on that for the rest of their time here, but in terms of practical application? No, there’s nothing they can’t do. I mean, for God’s sake, your Goddaughter built a fucking mountain!”

Sirius had to shrug sheepishly with an ‘oh, right’ kind of response. It wasn’t that he had forgotten that Harley had done so, but rather that it was just so god-damned off the charts that everyone tended to just set it aside, because they didn’t know what else to do with it. It was a demonstration of power so vast that people either ignored it, because they didn’t actually want to have to think about it, or they saw it and didn’t really believe that it could be done and the proof of it scared them shitless. Most fell into the latter category. Even Harley’s closest friends and supporters at school looked at the mountain, shook their heads, and tried to get on with their days; muttering all the while about ‘impossible’ and ‘ridiculous’ or some version of ‘I’m-not-challenging-her-and-you-can’t-make-me’. “So what do we do? I mean if we can’t test them…..”

“Well, we could always say that building a mountain means an ‘O+’, with highest honors in Charms and Transfiguration” – which covers us for two of the courses. As for Harley, she’s already proven that she’s the best flyer on the Continent or anywhere else, so there’s another ‘O+’ – but Highest Honors has got to go to Draco, for beating the National Team’s seeker.” Sirius grinned. Draco was proving himself to be an extraordinary young man. Beating the National Team’s seeker, in front of more than 10,000 people had to be worth at least the O+, if for no other reason that they sent the National Team packing, with their tails between their legs in shame. That was going to be something that would resonate in Hogwarts’ halls for a very long time to come. “Yea… I enjoyed that.”

Remus grinned too, before he spoke. “Loved seeing the snots from the National Team get bested by a 14 yr. old. Poor Lucius looked like he was going to burst with pride in what his son did. Made his achievements seem small and insignificant by comparison.”

Sirius laughed and then said, “The dork Lard, if he ever comes back, is going to shit himself when he realizes that his time has come and gone and his best supporters are now firmly in our camp.” Remus couldn’t agree more, but that was a conversation for another day. “Let’s get back to it. We were talking about your Goddaughter and Hermione.”

Sirius held his hands up, palm upwards, to indicate that Remus should continue. “So… Potions? Well, she and Hermione are top of the class, but probably not the best in Europe. We’ll have to wait and see on that grade. For Mathematics – Again, they’re both great, but not the best in Europe by any stretch. So figure an O for that class. For DADA – well, I don’t know what to say. Being able to drop a meteor on your enemy has got to count for something, as does the ability to summon a Patronus so strong that it can destroy multiple Dementors. That’s got to be worth an ‘O+’ with Highest Honors – something she and Hermione will have to share, I’m afraid.”

“What about Astronomy?” Sirius inquired.

“O or O+. No honors there, for either Hermione or Harley. There are other students who’ve taken to that with more zeal that I was ever expecting. They love the professional telescopes. Of course, the pure-blood types are shocked that things in space are just as the Muggles say they are, and that the planets are so far away. The Theory of Relativity is a kick in the teeth to many of them.” “That leaves English Composition, CoMC, and Botany, excuse me… Herbology.”

“No. You were right the first time, Sirius. In fact, we’re changing the name for the Fall. It’s going to be called Botany and we’re going to be bringing in two additional textbooks that the Muggles use. One for the first-through-third year students and one for the fourth-through-seventh year students, which is one that first-year college students use. That one’s an advanced-introductory work for the subject. That way, we’ll be able to weave the two subjects together and have the students learning the complete topic instead of just the magical portion. They’re going to need it, given how much the Muggles are encroaching into our world.”

“What about CoMC?”

“That’s not my purview. You’re going to have to bring Hagrid in and talk to him directly. He and I work together regarding some of the creatures that students might find and have to defend against, but very few students take the NEWT in CoMC, unless they’re going to become Magizooligists or Forest Rangers on the magical side, for the Homeland Secretariat.”

“That just leaves English Composition, and I suppose History as well.”

“Again, Sirius, neither is my field. Everyone struggles with English Comp., because writing well is just… well, it’s hard. You know that. Even with the new pens and paper and automated quills for final papers, it’s still hard. As for History? There you’ve got me. I hated it, but that’s when Binns was teaching. This new guy, the squib, seems to be able to engage the students and really teach them. Hermione and Harley are bright, but neither one of them is exactly lighting up the place with their grades in that class, at least as far as I’ve heard.”

**\--- end flashback**

Isabelle Ross walked into Remus’ office and looked around. It showed the wear and tear of a year’s worth of teaching, which wasn’t a bad thing, but it was sometimes rough on the furniture. She saw Remus immediately. He was lost in thought and didn’t notice her. She coughed, politely, to announce herself.

Remus finally looked up and then smiled when he saw who it was. “Isabelle. Hi.”

“Hey, Remus. I wanted to come talk…. “

Though she was smiling, there was something that made him nervous about her presence. Sirius had shared with him the information that he had gathered about Isabelle’s past and her ‘accomplishments’, for lack of a more polite term.

“Hello, Isabelle. What can I do for you?” he said as softly and warmly as he could.

“I wanted to talk to you about your testing plan.”

Oh shit. Remus thought. This wasn’t the conversation that Remus wanted to have with the soon-to-be wife of the Headmaster and the mother of the most powerful magic-user on the planet. “Do you have a specific concern?” he asked carefully.

“I do.” She said.

“And?” he asked, trying to tease out of her what was the real issue that had brought her to his office.

“You’re not going to like my ideas”

No, but you’re going to tell me anyway and expect me to cooperate, aren’t you? He thought to himself. She started talking and he was right. He didn’t like her ideas and she did expect him to cooperate. 

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**Office of the Chief Inspector, Sussex Police sub-station, 10 Southway, Colchester – Friday, June 4, 1993**

Knock, knock, knock! David Brandy looked up from his desk. It was his secretary, Amy Brady.

“Morning, Chief Inspector.”

“Good morning, Amy. What do you need?” She didn’t usually knock on his door personally. Her office was busy and she usually just picked up the phone and buzzed him.

“There are two men here to see you, Chief Inspector. They’re MI-5”

David blinked and sucked in a breath; letting it out slowly so that he didn’t spit all over his desk. “Send… send them in, Amy. And then destroy any record of their being here. I’m serious about that. No logs, nothing.” Amy had never received such an order from him before and it was her turn to blink. “Yes sir.”

“Dismissed, Amy.” It didn’t take long for two non-descript men to knock on his door. “Chief Inspector David Brandy?” “Yes. Come in and close the door.”

They did so and he offered them chairs across from his desk. They sat and looked at him. “What can I do for MI-5?”

“You sent a report in.”

“Yes. I did. Do you have answers for me?”

“Yes.”

“Am I going to like the answers?”

“Probably not.”

“How much does the answer have to do with Hermione Granger?”

“Everything.”

“Leave her alone.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious about why a young girl, a 13 year old, could be at the center of such a curious set of circumstances.

“Because if you don’t, she will find you, and she will kill you.”

David rubbed his eyes and then said, “Excuse me? Can you say that again?”

“She will find you and she will kill you.”

“Are you saying that a fourteen year old girl is some kind of killer who is more dangerous than a platoon of police?”

“Yes” one of the men said.

“And just how am I supposed to believe that?”

The man took out a small crystal, put it on the desk, and then tapped it with a stick.

From the crystal, a perfect, 3D image sprang up and started to play out. It was a breathtakingly beautiful Hermione Jane Granger-Ross standing on a dock, as twilight fell, and pointing her hands skyward. David watched as Hermione summoned a truly terrifying, falling meteor – almost a hundred feet long – and using some kind of power to lower it onto the ground, as if doing so was nothing more than an ordinary exercise.

When the image faded, David looked at them and said, “That’s a hell of a technology. I’ve never seen a recording system that used a crystal before. And that’s a hell of a video. Who made it?” The elder of the two men snickered. “That’s no video, Chief Inspector. What you saw was a memory crystal that was gathered in Norway.”

David shook his head and then looked at them. “Wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me that that actually happened? And that you somehow captured a memory in a crystal?”

“Yes. That is what we are saying.”

“Bullshit. That’s not possible.”

“Chief Inspector, we can take you to Norway and show you that meteor.”

“That can’t be possible.”

“It is. It’s not just possible, it’s real. Hermione Granger is a witch. And she is one of the two most powerful people on Earth. Leave her the fuck alone!” The older man said, with a touch of anger. The older man took out a stick, which the Chief Inspector assumed was some kind of wand, and turned the glass paperweight on his desk into a petite candelabra. Then he made it walk around the desk. The Chief Inspector watched, fascinated and a little excited, by the demonstration.

After the candelabra was returned to the paperweight it had been, he said, “Ok. So… you’re telling me that magic is real and that Hermione Granger is a witch so dangerous that two men from MI-5, and I assume both of you are what? Wizards? Warlocks? Are afraid of her.”

The two men nodded in appreciation of the fact that the Chief Inspector was smart and connected pieces of information quickly and accurately. Then the older one spoke. “Wizards, but yes. We were sent here to let you know the secret. To make sure you do the right thing, and to make sure you don’t repeat it to anyone.”

“And you’re telling me that Hermione Granger will kill me, if I and my department don’t leave her alone.”

“Yes. We are. We leave her alone. She is ferociously protective of her privacy and she does not tolerate being harassed. And her wife terrifies us.”

“Her… wife?”

“Yes. Hermione is lesbian. She is married – bound by magic - to the most dangerous, most powerful magic user to ever live, save perhaps for Merlin himself. We leave her alone and we do not speak her name.” The incredible irony of that statement was lost on neither wizard, but it wasn’t something that they were going to mention, either.

David hadn’t even finished his first cup of tea when the two men walked in. Now he was longing for something much, much, much stronger. “Now what? What are you going to do to me?” “We’re going to seal the memory of this conversation in your mind. You’ll remember it, but you won’t be able to speak of it to anyone else. You’ll have the ability to act on what we’ve told you, but you won’t be able to explain it to anyone, so you’ll have to act very, very carefully.”

“And then what?”

“You’ll go on with your life. If I were you though, I would consider moving. You do not want to be the focus of Lady Granger’s attention. Your officers experienced what it is like to be the center of her negative attention, and she was only _mildly annoyed._ If you anger her, she will come and she will kill you. She’s already killed six people that we know of. You don’t want to be number seven.”

David thought about the fact that the two men spoke about Hermione Granger killing people as though it was somehow routine and acceptable and it chilled him right down to the bone. He thought about his situation, and about the fact that these two men weren’t offering to protect him, but rather warn him so that he didn’t continue down a dangerous and potentially fatal path. It made him realize that he didn’t have much choice. “Alright. Do what you have to do. I don’t like it, but I understand the need of it.”

The elder man took out his own stick and tapped David very gently on the chest, while muttering something. A soft, blue glow surrounded him for a moment and then dissipated. “Done. Hopefully, we will never meet again, Chief Inspector. If we do, it will probably be so that we can identify your body. Please make sure that’s not the case.”

David nodded. “Good-bye then. Thank you for coming.”

The two men looked at him, nodded, and then one of them took out a small cloth, which both touched, before they disappeared in a swirl of blue-and-white light.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Hogwarts – Monday, June 7th, 1993**

The problem with walls, at least as it came to news and information, was that they worked both ways. Information wasn’t escaping from Hogwarts, but it also wasn’t getting in – at least not in measurable or impactful ways. Only Sirius, Harley, Hermione, and some of the other Muggle-borns received the London Times as well as the Daily Prophet and that just wasn’t enough people to disseminate widely the information each day.

The news, therefore, of a car showing up in the middle of Stonehenge, completely missed most of the students of Hogwarts. Of course, it earned a well-chosen “Oh shit” from Harley, Hermione, Isabelle, Sirius, and though none of them knew it, Hermione’s parents as well.

Not one of them knew that the dinner which the Grangers, plus Harley, had shared in Norwich – that had gone so badly wrong – had caused a major kerfuffle in law-enforcement circles. They also didn’t know that it had kicked off a major, though invisible, struggle between the Unspeakables and their Muggle counterparts. One that the Muggles were now losing, badly.

It had started as a cluster-fuck for Saul Croaker’s department, when they realized that the UK government was taking advantage of magical oaths to co-opt or silence squibs, Muggle-borns and half-bloods who had left the magical world and that they were using the Goblins to ward government buildings all over the Island. It had become a race to catch up, and then ultimately defeat those efforts. Saul hated being behind the 8-ball and that’s exactly where he had started.

One of the areas was the replacement of all of the wizards who were working for the British government. Anyone who was seen as a turncoat to the Department for Magic was killed and then replaced with a magical loyalist, using potions, magical glamours, or illusions, as necessary. The effort had become so intense that it had sucked up all of the talent from the secondary magical schools in the UK, Ireland, Scotland and Wales.

Another area of battle, though it was also invisible, was the subversion or outright destruction of data-recording systems, particularly the computers. Loyalist half-bloods, who had better than a working knowledge of the technology were drafted to teach everyone else in Department V, with an eye towards not so much modification as outright destruction of those systems. Here, Department V had a built-in advantage. Computers hated magic. Like they hated magnets or water, only more so. Magic fried electronic components as surely as water did, only faster. Because of that vulnerability, a single witch or wizard could destroy every computer in a governmental office-building in less than an hour, and that was done, where necessary. In other places, it was done selectively… but it was done. Law enforcement efforts, particularly as they applied to collecting information on the magical world, were sabotaged at every turn. Paper records were even easier, since there were more than a dozen charms and hexes which would scramble written text to the point where it was meaningless and more importantly, unrecoverable.

The campaign to blind the Muggles, Saul Croaker knew, would take another month or two at the outside, to be completed. And once they were blind, any new efforts would be much more transparent. He had no idea how much more difficult, and ultimately futile; his mission would become. 

**{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

**3PM GMT Somewhere in the Grand Erg Oriental Desert (northern Africa) Wed. June 9th**

Harley Ross looked out over the sweeping desert and sighed. As far as she could tell, she was alone. There wasn’t another person within several hundred miles. That was, of course, both bad and good. It was bad because being alone frightened her on an emotional level in a way that she could not describe. But in the moment, it was good, because it meant that no one was going to get hurt while she practiced her magic…. because things were about to get violent. 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**إدارة تطبيق القانون السحري للجزائر – Department of Magical Law Enforcement for Algeria – Same day**

Algeria wasn’t a place that was rife with overt magic. It was physically (geographically) too close to the great magical wasteland that was the Libyan/Chadian Ténere (Sahara) Desert. No magic users had come out of that area in 4,000 years. For what reason, no one knew, but it was a magically barren area of immense size. But, it was perfect for those who had magic to test out. Especially the more dangerous kinds. After all, no one was going to mourn the destruction of what was already a wasteland. However, that wasn’t to say that the authorities weren’t going to sit up and take notice when something started happening. When alarms started going off in the office of the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for Algeria, hit-wizards were dispatched to the general area, so that they could find out who had set them off and why. No one ever promised that they were going to like what they found. ****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Rachlid haj el Hezil appeared on a high, rocky outcropping that was part of the western ridge above the great wash that was the Grand Erg Oriental Desert. The outcropping, of course, empty, but that didn’t mean anything since the Great Erg Desert was so mind-numbingly vast and running into anyone was more a freak accident than anything else. However, it was impossible to miss what was happening. Someone was calling meteors down from the heavens, and huge ones at that, and setting off titanic explosions over what had to be a hundred square miles. As he watched, even as far away as he was, the over-pressure waves slammed into him from each explosion.

He knew, because he was a smart man, and because INTERPOL/MAG kept a secret list, that there were only, maybe, six to ten people on the planet who had the ability to call down meteors. Four of them were North America, two were in Asia (one in India and the other in Japan), one was in Azkaban, and two were in Scotland. Of the entire group though, only two had the ability to travel anywhere they chose, unhindered and unannounced. That meant that one of them was here. Rachlid swallowed hard. He had no ability to oppose someone who could call down meteors and he sure as hell wasn’t going to try. All he could do was get back to his commander and let him know what was going on and that it was very, very likely that she-who-must-not-be-named had come to Algeria. ****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Twenty miles away, Fariq Haj al Nori got a much closer look at what was going on, and unfortunately, it was the last thing he ever saw. He had made the mistake of trying to triangulate the center of the high-energy magics that were being invoked and guessed wrong. The last thing he ever saw was a meteor, maybe twenty feet long and ten feet across, slam into the Earth in front of him. The detonation literally tore him apart, as he tried to Apparate away and was shredded. 

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Harley looked down the valley from where she stood and surveyed her work. There were massive blast-holes across a wide area, very much like craters of the Moon. Some of the holes were only a couple of meters deep while others were hundreds of meters deep. The deeper ones were still glowing with molten metals and liquified rock. A part of her knew that the Muggle authorities were going to have a hell of a time trying to explain why a part of one of their deserts suddenly looked like a bombing range after a particularly intense bombardment. Another part of her found that she just didn’t care – but that part of her was outvoted by the part that really didn’t want to cause further trouble, with Hermione or the Queen or anyone else, so she waved her hand and every hole, ever bit of evidence that she had been there began to disappear or become covered over by hundreds of meters of desert sand. There. All better. She thought. She did, however, resent being spied on and to that point, she looked upwards with her magic and “saw” two big satellites that felt particularly malign. These she casually ripped apart with her magic; pulling the solar panels off each and crushing the housings just enough that the ‘bird’ was rendered inoperable. See if you can explain that! She thought to herself, before closing her eyes and disappearing.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**GMT-6, National Reconnaissance Office, Pentagon, Wed., June 9th**

Alarms were going off all over the main office of the US-NRO and people were scrambling to figure out what had just happened. Edward C. (‘Pete’) Aldridge Jr. was a man unfazed by most things. He had personal courage and a steady vision that was reinforced with both a sense of duty and the sober judgement that comes with many years of successful service. However, everyone hits a moment when they don’t know what to do or say. This was such a moment. Two of the NRO’s most expensive, most sophisticated birds had suddenly, and quite permanently gone off-line over one of the most dangerous areas of the world: Northern Africa and the Mediterranean.

There had been no warning, no build-up of tensions… nothing. One minute the birds were working and the next – they were off-line and unreachable by any of the multiple back-up systems. It was as if someone had just reached up and swatted them.

Pete Aldridge was in the main operations center, and there were calls going out to all of the allied nations, inquiring about any problems with their birds. Those calls were going to the Brits, the Germans, Japanese, and others with vested interests in the Med and its surrounds.

“Do we have anything?” he heard his Deputy, Johnathan ‘John’ Rogers ask of the lead tech on duty.

“No Sir. We don’t. I’ve run checks across the board we have nothing from any of our friends.”

“Have you pulled the take from the birds before they went off-line?”

“Yes Sir. But it doesn’t help. The birds were in diagnostic mode, and their last take was from an hour ago. There’s nothing to indicate a problem.”

“Shit”, Rogers said, and Pete agreed with him.

“How long before we can get a team up to look at those birds, John?” Pete asked as he approached the man.

Turning, John Rogers said, “You’re not going to like it, Sir. I’ve already looked at the NASA tasking book and we’d be last in line, for a mission 24 months from now.”

“FUCK!” Pete swore to himself, though others in the office heard it and nodded in agreement.

“I couldn’t agree more, Sir. We’d be better off getting a new bird or birds launched out of Vandenberg Airforce Base or out of White Sands in New Mexico. There’s one that might be ready in a year, if we can get Lockheed-Martin to push it along.”

“Does anyone else have any ideas?” He asked out loud, making sure that all of the technicians in the room could hear him (it was a big room).

One young, beautiful Asian girl looked up at him from where she sat in front of a radar console. “Sir?” she said quietly, wanting to attract his attention, but not wanting to yell her idea out loud, either. Pete walked over to her and said, “Yes, Miss…?”

“Yang, Sir. Lieutenant. Emily Yang“.

“Yes, Lieutenant? What did you want to say?“

“Call the Algerians, Sir. We don’t usually talk to them, but it’s possible that they know something.”

“Why would you think that they do, Lieutenant?”

“Don’t know sir. Call it a gut feeling, but I’m very seldom wrong.”

John Rogers sidled up next to his boss and said, “You can trust her, Sir. She’s right that she’s very seldom wrong when she gets a gut instinct. I’ve been here ten years and I’ve learned to trust her.” Pete looked at the two of them and said, “Very well. Find out who we can talk to in the Algerian Government and make the calls. See what you can dig up.”

“Yes, Sir!” She said with a smile, to both John and his boss, Pete.

First Lieutenant Emily Yang smiled to herself. She was a squib who, every once in a while, got a flash of something true. She had no idea why, but she was right going on 99% of the time. She didn’t dare tell anyone about her background, or about magic, or any of it, but she knew that in this case, she was right. The feeling burned within her and she knew that something big and important was involved. She didn’t know what it was yet, but she’d find out. She had people she could ask, and they’d know others, and eventually she’d find out what was going on, at least to some degree. Maybe not all of the specifics – she was never that lucky – but she’d find out the general shape of the situation. She also knew that if she did find out what had happened in the skies above Algeria, that she might completely forbidden from telling her boss. Not that she’d heed that necessarily, because she still had oaths that she had sworn, but she’d have to be very, very careful. ****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**MCUSA HQ / New York City – 97 & 49th Streets; 9:45 AM EST**

At about the same time that things were lighting up in the NRO, people were scrambling in the upper-most offices at MCUSA. These were the people who thought that they were in charge of or at least guardians of the magical world.

“We’ve got Flash Traffic from DC” one staffer yelled as he looked up at the massive monitoring board that showed the entire world in Mercator projection. It was by no means a perfect representation of the world, since it massively diminished the actual size of Africa and the other continents. It had its uses though, mostly by showing courses of constant bearing, which helped demonstrate intended direction and a couple of other things.

A massive, bright red light was blinking over Algeria, which indicated that there was trouble.

Another voice yelled back, in answer to the first voice, “Bring it to my office.” That voice belonged to Hostia Jackson, the head of the National Security Agency for MCUSA and the direct counterpart to Vice-Admiral John M. McConnell, USN.

Stephanie Williams was a serious witch, and a believer in law-and-order. She also was one of the fastest adopters of new technologies and understood the technomancy that had gone into the watch-board. She handed the note to Hostia and then stood back, to wait for instructions.

Hostia’s eyes flicked back and forth over the page, reading and then re-reading the important sections at least twice. It took her a full three minutes.

“Get my opposite on the phone right now.”

Stephanie scrambled to do so and in less than a minute, Hostia Jackson was holding for the Vice-Admiral to pick up. When he did, the conversation was brief.

“Vice-Admiral?” Hostia said, and then waited for the man’s response. It was loud, but Stephanie didn’t catch any of it.

“No Sir. I can tell you that it’s one of ours and we know who it is. And no, I am not going to tell you a name. You don’t need to know and you don’t want the person as an enemy.”

There was more yelling on the other end of the phone, but it was garbled by the fact that Hostia was holding the phone to her chest, because the man was yelling. When she lifted the phone away from her chest, Stephanie heard her short reply. “No. There’s nothing that can be done about it. No, Sir. I don’t care what you call it. Say it was a meteor that broke up in space and landed in sequence. Or that it was secret mission to test weapons. Whatever. I can’t do anything to help you. Maybe the Brits can and maybe they can’t.”

There was considerably more yelling in response to that and it was so loud that even across the room, Stephanie was catching one word in three. Finally, it stopped and Stephanie could see the anger on her boss’ face. “John, I would recommend that you don’t threaten me again. I know where you live and I am a witch and you are not. Further, the person you’re yelling about, the one the Brits are leaving alone, is the most powerful witch on the planet and that means that we all leave her alone. We don’t even speak her name. And if you think that’s funny, I don’t. She scares the crap out of me. If she decided to test her magic in Algeria…. Well, that’s just too bad for the Algerians. And no, we can’t do anything about it. I’m sorry. Is there anything else that you want to yell about? No? Alright, good. Have a nice day.”

Stephanie took the phone from her and, after making sure it was off and silenced, looked at her boss. Speaking first wasn’t her place and she knew it, so she waited for her boss to say something. For her part, Hostia knew that her subordinate was waiting for her to say something and she appreciated the respect and the quiet dignity that the younger woman had. “Well?” she asked, trying to provoke a reaction.

“I think No-mag’s are getting desperate, Boss.”

“Why?” She asked, thinking that the observation was a good one.

“Because our sources say that there is a concerted, coordinated effort on by our friends on the Continent to blind the No-mag’s at every turn and apparently, it’s been very, very effective so far. The British Unspeakables and their allies are deliberately sabotaging the information-gathering efforts of their Muggle counterparts and eliminating anyone who would work with the No-mag’s against them.” That made Hostia raise both eyebrows in surprise. She had basically forgotten that Stephanie was cleared for almost everything that she was, which meant that she saw all of the take from their spies (“assets”) overseas. 

“So you’re saying…. ?”

“That the No-mag’s are talking as well and that those on the Continent know what’s going on, even if they can’t do anything about it, and they’ve told the No-mag’s here what’s happening.”

“What does that mean for us?”

“It means we’ve got to significantly step up our physical security, for one. Second, we’ve got to get a handle on just what the two girls are thinking. That means we’ve either got to talk to them directly, or get someone on the inside who will talk to them for us. We can’t afford to be blind-sided by something they do and we absolutely cannot have them come looking for us because they’re pissed. We don’t have the defenses to keep them from wiping us out.”

And they weren’t the only problem, either, Hostia thought. Isabelle Ross was no pushover and that was without the Horde. “Should we be working to blind our No-mag’s? Do what the Brits are doing?”

Stephanie shrugged and then said, more quietly, “I think we’ve got to at least think about it, Boss. It will be a stop-gap measure at best, given where the No-Mag’s technology is going, but it would give us some breathing room and make the No-mag’s efforts more transparent. We’re never going to get ahead of them, since there are so many more of them than us, but it might just be enough for us. We also have to think about what our fallback position might be. Can we do what the British magicals have done? I mean, but building a massive area where we can retreat to?”

Hostia looked at her and said, “That’s very much above my paygrade… but it’s a good enough idea that I will pass it along. I think, for what it’s worth, that you’re onto something and that others need to hear it.” She didn’t say, because she dared not, that physical security was a problem for them. Anyone who could drop a meteor on them, with near-perfect precision, was not going to be stopped by their other physical and magical barriers. Most especially if both of them came hunting scalps. Hostia was paid to be paranoid. The question was: was she paranoid enough? 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Vice-Admiral John M. McConnell was very much not in a good mood. He wasn’t a man who was easily intimidated, and he never, ever let his feelings show through to his subordinates, but he was scared nonetheless and for the first time, he considered whether he still wanted this god-damned job. It was all-consuming, didn’t allow him much of a social or sex-life, and didn’t pay nearly as well as jobs in the private sector. It also put a weight on his shoulders that was not easily born, by him or anyone else. Now he had the challenge of telling the President that the most powerful person on the planet was not him, but rather a 13 or perhaps 14 yr. old girl in England, whose name them they did not know for certain, but was believed to be Harley Janel Ross, and who had the ability to call down massive meteors out of space and drop them precisely where she wanted them. Picking up the phone, he dialed a three-digit number on a secure line and then waited. When the voice on the other end answered, he said, “NRO Flash report for NCA. Critic priority.” By ‘NCA’ he meant National Command Authority. In other words, the President. A Critic priority alert was one, in the US government, that had to be in the hands of the President in no more than 15 minutes. That meant that he had exactly three minutes to draft his comments and get them into the system, for delivery. 

Sitting down, he wrote concisely, delivering the details without fanfare or embellishment. When he was finished, it was three paragraphs long. He handed it to his secretary, who read it, changed two words, handed it back, and went back to work at her desk. He made the necessary spelling changes and submitted it to the system. One minute later, the report was in the hands of WHMO - “Whamo” in White House parlance – the White House Military Office. There it was printed out, put into a red folder market “Most Secret, President’s Eyes Only” and walked to the Oval Office. 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

George Herbert Walker Bush – “H. Dubble-ya” as the nickname went in Texas twang, was a decently bright man who had exceptional personal courage and fortitude and had the great good fortune to be married to a truly amazing, awesome woman, Barbara. If he didn’t understand something, he was able to turn to her, to explain it to him in a way that he was going to get. Unfortunately, there were things about which he was simply forbidden from speaking to her. That crippled him in some ways and made him more reliant on the exceptionally dubious character of people like Dan Quayle or Lawrence Eagleburger, and the outright Nazi bullshit of people like Dick Cheney. The note from the head of the NRO therefore landed with a thud in the President’s office and caused enough of a kerfuffle that the President was forced to call the Prime Minister’s office. If anyone would know what to do, “W” thought, it would be John Major – and besides, he trusted John far more than he trusted his on VP. And that, of course, made sense, since the VP had the IQ of a potato. 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Office of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, just after 4pm GMT**

Hlengiwe M’Bala answered the phone, as she usually did, to be told “Please hold for the President of the United States”, which she did. When the line picked up, she took the call and put it on hold, after greeting the President. Then she scrambled to get her boss’ attention. John Major didn’t often take an unscripted and unplanned phone call from the President. 

Picking up, John said with a smile in his voice, “Mr. President. This is unexpected. What can I do for you?”

“John, I need your help. One of yours is dropping meteor bombs in Algeria. It’s got people really scared here, at the highest levels.” H.W wasn’t going to mention that two of the US’s best photo-recon satellites had been gone off-line and been presumed destroyed somehow.

John didn’t need to be told who it was who was dropping the meteors. He knew damned well who it was. “Mr. President, we know the person responsible, and yes, she’s one of ours, although the only person to whom she’s truly answerable is Her Majesty, who has direct control over that part of our nation.”

“Are you saying that you can’t help us?” The president inquired.

“Yes, George, I am. We don’t speak her name and I have an issued a national edict that she be left strictly alone.”

“Dear God. Why?” The President asked. He had never heard of someone being treated that way, by any government.

“Three things, George. One – she’s a minor and our laws are very particular about the way they are treated. Two – given her power, she can do whatever she god-damned well wants and I have no ability to stop her, and three – I cannot reach her either directly or indirectly.”

George Bush didn’t understand anything about magic, though he knew it existed. “How can that be, John?”

John Major rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep, calming breath before answering. “You know magic exists, correct?”

“Yes. Though I don’t understand it at all. Goes against everything I learned in Church as a boy.”

“Yes. Quite. I was the same. Anyway, there is a very real magical wall that separates her from us that we cannot breach.” He didn’t bother to say that he was more than indirectly responsible for its existence. “No non-magical person can go anywhere near where she lives. Further, we have no magical agents who can pierce that wall. Worse, she has her own army, as I’m given to understand, and I am told that going after her is a suicide mission. And you understand, Mr. President, that any effort from the outside to get to her would be a direct violation of our sovereignty.”

George H.W. Bush heard the underlying message loud and clear: Stay out of our business and don’t even think about going after her, and he so he didn’t react. It wasn’t exactly a friendly message that he was getting from the PM, but sovereignty was something that every head of state took seriously.

“So this young person, this girl, can do anything she wants?” The President asked, after a moments’ reflection.

“That, unfortunately, Mr. President, is exactly the situation. We pray for her good judgement, her kindness, and her care in not doing anything that would lead to a major problem and so far, she’s managed to cover her tracks, and hides what she’s done, when she gets out and unleashes her powers.” He wasn’t going to mention that oh, by the way, she built a 7,000 ft. mountain to see if she could. “So you can’t help us?”

“No, Mr. President. Whatever has happened, I cannot help you, and if I were you, I’d leave it alone. Seriously. This girl can find you and your Secret Service cannot protect you. The truth is that literally, no one can protect you against her. She ignores my bodyguards because they just don’t matter to her. She can kill you by her will alone. I am telling you, for your own sake, leave her alone.” John wasn’t going to bring up the extremely uncomfortable truths of what had happened at the air-force base and how his soldiers had all been incapacitated within seconds. Better for the President to either hear the message and believe it or learn it the hard way for himself.

George swallowed hard and then thanked the PM, before hanging up the phone. A certain rage welled up in him as he thought about all that he had been told by the PM, and the fact that his own people had never mentioned to him that the girl was so powerful. He was mad enough that he yelled at his secretary and started demanding that people dragged their sorry asses to the White House. He wanted answers and he wanted them now..

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**Saturday, June 12, 1993 – Hogwarts**

Sirius Black, Headmaster of Hogwarts, swept through the hallway as a force of nature, on his way to the Great Hall and the outer foyer, so as to greet the international team of proctors and examiners that he had requested from the IWC. The examiners, five for each year, were arrayed in the Foyer. Over them, like a very stern and implacable guardian, stood Hagrid. He was a very changed person since the installation of Sirius Black and the changes were all to the good, but they were also frightening, to those who didn’t know him. The last year had seen him evolve from a well-meaning oaf to something more out of Norse mythology. Gone was any hint of self-pity or insecurity. This Hagrid moved with power and pride and was nobody’s fool.

One man, a Sikh, stepped forward as he saw the Headmaster approach. Sirius’ wand was already out, since he didn’t know these people and was prepared for the possibility that they were in the castle for less than an honorable reason. The fellow blanched when he saw the wand and wondered just going on that the Headmaster of such a school would approach them in an openly unfriendly manner. He had no idea that around them, invisible, were more than fifty house-elves, each of whom was prepared to give his or her life in defense of the school, and in particular, their mistress, Hermione. Sirius was dressed in his finest black cloak, which bore the sigils for the House of Black and Hogwarts. Hs beard was goatee was trimmed short and his naturally curly hair was pulled back into a pony-tail, tied off with a black band, which said that he was single, but engaged. 

Pushpa Kumar, WarMage for the IWC and newly certified proctor for DADA exams, stepped forward, hesitantly. He was well aware that the Headmaster was at the peak of his powers when standing inside Hogwarts, and that it would be foolish to say or do anything that would irritate him.

“Headmaster Black, thank you for greeting us personally.” He said, as formally and as warmly as possible.

Sirius nodded. “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Sirius Orion Black. Thank you all for coming to proctor the end-of-year exams. Our own Ministry could not send as competent a team, and so I am glad that you are all here.” He looked at the group of thirty-five witches and wizards and smiled to himself. It was exactly as Jane had said it would be: Three proctors for each subject, with two alternates, to keep the grading fair and impartial. “If you will follow me, I will lead you to the second floor and I will show you the main entrance to the Hogwarts Library. It is the oldest magical library in the United Kingdom and currently houses a quarter-million books on Magical subjects and an additional quarter-million non-magical texts, all fully up to date, on every conceivable non-magical subject. Once we have seen the library, I will introduce you to the Deputy Headmistress, Jane Court. She will take you to the guest wing, where you will be staying for next week.” Pushpa wanted to say something, but was beaten to it by one of his fellows. “Sir? Headmaster?”

Sirius turned to face the person asking the question. A short, lean man who looked oddly.. transparent? Was that even possible? Then he thought of Wilkie Twycross, who had taught Apparition for the Ministry for Magic for so many years and figured that he knew what the man might teach.

Sirius smiled and said, “Yes, what can I do for you?”

“I hear that your students have a new way of Apparating. I was wondering….”

Sirius held up his hand and said, “I’m sorry, but no. Yes, the students are learning a new way to Apparate, and no, you are never going to be taught it. The only person who teaches that here is my God-daughter, and she is unwilling to teach it to any adult. I don’t even know it. Her mother doesn’t know it. It is something that she has restricted to the students themselves and there is nothing I can do about it.”

Pushpa Kumar looked at him and Sirius could see the man was very unhappy with that answer. Sirius looked down at him, since there was a difference of almost six inches between them, and said, “You have a problem with that, sir?”

Pushpa realized that he had failed to school his expression properly and let his feelings be known ahead of when it might have been useful to let them out. Now all he could do was backtrack and try to appease the Headmaster.

“I… well, yes, I do, but that’s not what we’re here for, so it doesn’t matter.”

Sirius looked at him and said very quietly, up close, “I suggest that you drop your issue, whatever it is, and get over it. Right here and right now. If you don’t, you may dislike the consequences.” Pushpa knew when he was being threatened and this was one of those times. He also knew that the man making the threat had the absolute ability to carry it out. Sirius Orion Black was an Animagus. And not just any Animagus, but a magical one, which was unusual to the point of being unheard of in modern times. He was a Grim, with all of the powers that entailed, which made him the opponent from Hell. Literally.

Turning, Pushpa said something low, harsh, and guttural to the semi-transparent man, in a language that Sirius didn’t recognize. When he was finished, the turned back to face the Headmaster. “Excuse me, please. I have told my colleague to drop the matter, permanently, and I promise that I will see to it that he obeys. Is that acceptable?”

Sirius nodded. “That will do for now, thank you.”

“Very good then. Thank you for your forbearance.”

“You are welcome. I am glad that we can put that issue aside. Now, please have your group follow me, and I will introduce you to the Deputy Headmistress, and she will show you all to your rooms.” Sirius turned and swept away, walking towards the grand staircase that led to the second floor, his office, Jane’s office, and the stairs that would take the group to the guest-wing. After several more harsh and guttural words to his group, Pushpa led them after the Headmaster. He never saw the 50+ house-elves or even felt their presences, which was just as well, because that meant that they would be able to do their duty without the worry of premature discovery. 

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**Monday Morning – June 14th, 1993 - the Great Hall, Hogwarts – just after 8AM.**

The professors of Hogwarts watched as the four houses of Hogwarts lined up, military-style, just outside the doors. Each of the houses was led in by their 7th year students, except for Gryffindor, which was led by its leaders-by-acclaim, Hermione and Harley Ross. The four houses marched in, Slytherin first, Ravenclaw second, Hufflepuff third, and Gryffindor, last. The IWC proctors watched from the guest-table as the tables were filled and everyone remained standing until Harley and Hermione Ross sat, which signaled to everyone else to sit down. Pushpa’s gaze had to be torn away from the girls by his colleagues and this caused quiet but furious discussion to spring up between them. It also caused the Headmaster to focus intently on the school’s guests, to the point of wanting to do something about it. “Dobby?”

The taller-than-usual elf appeared by his side and looked up. “Headmaster, Sir? What can Dobby be doing for you?”

Sirius looked down at him and said quietly, “Dobby? Can you assign a couple of elves to follow our guests? Especially the one with the beard and turban, and record everything he says? I want to know if he’s a threat to my God-daughter.”

Dobby’s eyes hardened. “Nobody hurts mistress” he said with a voice harder than anything than Sirius had ever heard from an elf before. 

“Yes, Dobby. Nobody hurts my god-daughter or her ‘Mione. That’s why I need to know if he’s saying anything about them that’s a problem.” 

“Dobby will be getting help, Headmaster Sir. Turban-man will go nowhere elveses can’t listen to him.”

“Good, Dobby. Thank you. That’s what I need to protect your mistress.”

If the other teachers at the table were curious about what Sirius was saying to the well-dressed elf, they didn’t show it and no one said anything, as it wasn’t at all out of place for the Headmaster of the oldest magical school in the United Kingdom to speak with a house-elf. 

As for Harley, she was aware from the very first moment that the proctors were present and that she and Hermione were being watched. It was neither surprising nor unexpected, since as the youngest female arch-magi to ever live, they were bound to attract attention. It was, however, annoying, and she was already considering not attending meals for the rest of the week. Hermione liked her privacy just as much and would take no nudging at all to boycott meals. It might even give her and Harley a chance to eat with Jake and Miranda each evening. Miranda was a fabulous cook and having them at the table each evening for the balance of the week would be something she’d very much welcome.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The years’-end exams began that afternoon, and the Hogwarts students put their noses to the grindstone and went at it with panache. As Sirius and the rest had speculated, the tests were heavily weighted towards magical execution rather than theory and as a result, began to crush the tests. Each group of proctors alternated their testing, so that they were testing theory in the morning on alternate days, until they got through all seven years. Monday afternoon saw practical testing in Herbology and Flying for the first-year students., theory in CoMC for the 3rd-yr. students, and a writing/composition test for third-years not doing the CoMC test.

Almost immediately, the proctors got their noses out of joint when the 7th year students started popping about in their DADA practical test. This lead to a show-down between the head boy and girl and the defense masters who were set to test them.

“You can’t do that!” the lead man practically screamed at them, and pointed his wand at them.

The Head Girl, Kate Kulina, reached out with her magic and snapped the wand, just as Harley had shown her. This made the man almost incandescent with rage and he ran at her. Fortunately, the head-boy, Stephen Windborn, was able to erect a solid shield around the Head Girl, which kept the snarling proctor at bay while the Headmaster was summoned.

It didn’t take Sirius long to arrive and even less time to sort out the matter.

The Head-boy and Girl nodded deferentially to their headmaster, described what had just happened, and then went silent as they waited on his judgement. Sirius thought for a moment and then said, “Well, first, a tenth of a point deduction for snapping this asshole’s wand, Ms. Kulina. That’s bad form. You should have just shoved it up his ass.” Kate smirked and then schooled her expression. “Yes, Headmaster. I will remember that. I am sorry for my error.”

“Very good then. Second, let’s get this asshole off the school grounds. He’s obviously not qualified to test students. He has neither the temperament nor the judgement for it.” Gathering his considerable powers as the Headmaster, Sirius magically grabbed the man and banished him out of Hogwarts. When he was gone, he turned to the other two proctors, who had watched the entire episode, agog and aghast.

“You two. If your colleague is an example of what we can expect, then you can all get the fuck out and we’ll get proctors from the Colonies or maybe even Japan. I’ve heard they’re smart and fair.” The two remaining proctors knew better than to contradict or otherwise challenge the Headmaster, especially on his home ground. The fact that the two Head students had not used their wands during their entire encounter with their banished colleague spoke volumes about the students’ abilities at Hogwarts.

“Yes, Headmaster. We understand. We will make sure that nothing like this happens again.”

“Good. See to it. And pass the message to the rest of the proctors. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

“Yes, Sir.” They said in unison.

Sirius turned to the two Head students. “You two going to be alright?”

“Yes, sir. We can handle anything they can dish out.” Sirius smiled. “I know you can. Just try not to kill anyone, ok? We’re running out of space for bodies.”

They knew(?) he was kidding, but the message was received. “Yes sir.” “Very good then. Carry on.” With that, he Apparated away (the normal way), as only the Headmaster can do within Hogwarts. When he was gone, the Head students turned to the remain proctors and waited. They suspected that it was going to be a very long afternoon.

The elder of the two remaining proctors looked at the Head Boy and Girl and tried to compose himself in such a way that they didn’t immediately take offense. It took him a moment to gather himself before he spoke. “Ok, so let’s start with the seven kinds of shields…”

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Having pissed all over her first days’ exams, Hermione had retreated to their bed, after stripping down to nothing but knickers. She had ended up writing the theory exams for CoMC and the English Composition exam, since she had finished the CoMC exam so quickly. She was pretty certain the multiple-choice and short-answer questions shouldn’t even be allowed on exams, since they did almost nothing to test a student’s actual grasp of a subject, but she wasn’t going to be able to change the proctor’s mind on the subject and simply sat down and blew through the exam. The English Composition exam was considerably harder and actually a great deal more fun, since it asked her to answer one of two questions, in long-form essay: (1) Compare the rolls of Women as portrayed in William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet with those in McBeth OR (2) Discuss the role that War plays in the teaching of History, with emphasis on the Second World War. Hermione was a smart girl and she had played to her strength, which was Shakespeare. History had never really been of all that much interest to her and War even less so, so she sat down and went at it, talking about Lady Macbeth's quest for power on her husband's behalf, which eventually drives her mad, and the three Witches of Fate versus the almost non-entity rolls that they play in Romeo & Juliet. Her effort consumed twelve pages of writing and almost the entire three hours that they were allotted for the exam. She was so lost in her reading, and in the twilight-sleep that exhaustion can bring, that she didn’t realize that she was no longer alone, and that there was a very warm, naked body next to her.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Two hours later…..**

The Proctors, too, were exhausted, but their first day wasn’t over yet. They were forced to gather in the private common-room that they had been given, to talk about what they had seen and heard during the day and report on how their testing was going. While some of that was de-rigueur and expected, some of the questions were most certainly not, and the most experienced proctors recognized that and wondered what the Hell was going on.

Pushpa Kumar looked around. Since he was nominally the leader of this group, given his seniority with the IWC and status as War Mage, it was his job to organize and to accomplish his secondary mission, which was to discover just what was going on at Hogwarts and what was actually being taught.

The IWC was up in arms, given what had happened in Algeria and the leadership was considering drastic moves, none of which would be good for the students at Hogwarts. He had no idea that within the confines of Hogwarts, there was no way for him to keep secrets.

“Good evening, all” He said in Chaltibhasa, which is the street dialect of Bengali. All of his staff had taken specialized potions and shared blood with at least one Chaltibhasa speaker, in order to magically “learn” the language. It was assumed that not a single student at the school spoke the language and that it was therefore safe to use. Pushpa hadn’t thought about the fact that there might be house elves who did, in fact, speak the language and they worked for the school. Murphy is an asshole like that.

“What did you see today? You know what we’re here to learn.”

“The Head Boy and Girl are capable of silent, wandless casting. I saw them take Jason’s wand out of his hand, wandlessly, and snap it mid-air.”

Pushpa nodded. “Not that unusual. Concerning, perhaps, but not unusual. Anyone else?”

“Their BeastMaster threatened to snap my neck and feed me to the Gryffin if I didn’t mind my own business” one of the others said.

“Oh? And what were you doing that he would say something like that?”

The man, who was all of about 5’4”, grew morose and petulant. “I may have said something about him keeping dragon-drakes.” An animal that was frowned upon by the IWC, but not strictly against the law.

Pushpa shook his head and then said, “Does anyone else need to confess to having said or done something that is unbelievably stupid? Anyone? Because if you all keep it up, we’ll never be invited back and that would completely shut the IWC off from any chance of gathering information here, and oh, by the way, get all of you fired.”

There were mutterings in the room as several people groused about the situation in which the found themselves. 

“We have specific orders to gather information about the two Magi, Harley Janel Ross, and Hermione Jane Granger. You all know what they look like. You’ve all seen who they talk to. Find out as much as you can. We need to know, people. Everything you can get. Do NOT try to read minds, though. If they were to catch any of you doing that, not only can we not defend you, but we’d have no choice but to prosecute you ourselves. And DO NOT approach any of the staff. Is that clear?”

Everyone in the group nodded their assent to that edict. It wasn’t like they wanted to do so anyway. Between a Headmaster who could turn into a Grim, a DADA instructor who was a fully-realized Werewolf, a Half-giant, a former 9x international dueling champion, and a deputy Headmistress whom they all assumed was a spy, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity to select out someone who was going to be willing to speak with them anyway.

“One last thing, and I’m going to be very, very angry if any of you do this: DO NOT approach either of the Mages by yourself. They are known to care little for the niceties of law and they will most certainly kill you if they feel you’re a threat. No, actually, let me amend that: Leave Granger the fuck alone. The Lady Ross might speak with you, in a formal setting, but the I.W.C believes, which means that I believe, that she will go cosmically medieval on you if you approach her wife. She is psychotically protective of her and will not tolerate anything that even vaguely hints at being a threat. You all saw the reports from the Norwegians, right? And you all saw the report from European Scholastic and Open Invitational?”

Everyone nodded. The staff at the I.W.C had talked about little else around the water-cooler after it happened and Pushpa had been the one to write the report that had generated most of the talk. “My boss believes that the young girl who is the Pan-European International Dueling Champion is the least dangerous of their students and that there are others who are far, far worse. Why he thinks that is so, is beyond me, as it’s pretty certain that they’re all fucking dangerous! However, it leads me to this point. DO NOT antagonize the students. We do not actually know what some of them are capable of doing, since the agents that I brought here for the school’s open house and exhibition were all summarily magically ejected before they could gather any useful information.” He didn’t bother saying that some of them had been sent as far away as eastern Poland and as far south as Algeria and that they had been sent naked.

“I was able to stay only because I was on a diplomatic passport and they couldn’t touch me. That means that they and I were able to gather far less information than we had hoped for and it also means that there is a very great deal resting out our success as a group. I will leave you with this: Judge the students fairly. Don’t’ yell, don’t insult, and for God’s sake, don’t cheat them. If word gets to their Headmaster that a student has been cheated…. Well, there’s a reason that people are terrified of him and you don’t want to be on the receiving-end of his judgement. Remember that his is a GRIM with all that implies.”

The group broke up and eventually wandered off for dinner. It wasn’t a pleasant evening, and their boss’ words sat heavily with them. It’s not often that you find yourself in a death-trap, wondering if or when the door is going to come slamming shut, with you inside.

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	11. Dawn's New Light - Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a new front opens in the war between magical and Muggle, and I.W.C tutors learn that they are not as important as they they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 11  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com**

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**From Chapter 10….**

Everyone nodded. The staff at the IWC had talked about little else around the water-cooler after it happened and Pushpa had been the one to write the report that had generated most of the talk. “My boss believes that the young girl who is the Pan-European International Dueling Champion is the least dangerous of their students and that there are others who are far, far worse. Why he thinks that is so, is beyond me, as it’s pretty certain that they’re all fucking dangerous! However, it leads me to this point. DO NOT antagonize the students. We do not actually know what some of them are capable of doing, since the agents that I brought here for the school’s open house and exhibition were all summarily magically ejected before they could gather any useful information.” He didn’t bother saying that some of them had been sent as far away as eastern Poland and as far south as Algeria and that they had been sent naked.

“I was able to stay only because I was on a diplomatic passport and they couldn’t touch me. That means that they and I were able to gather far less information than we had hoped for and it also means that there is a very great deal resting out our success as a group. I will leave you with this: Judge the students fairly. Don’t’ yell, don’t insult, and for God’s sake, don’t cheat them. If word gets to their Headmaster that a student has been cheated…. Well, there’s a reason that people are terrified of him and you don’t want to be on the receiving-end of his judgement. Remember that his is a GRIM with all that implies.”

The group broke up and eventually wandered off for dinner. It wasn’t a pleasant evening, and their boss’ words sat heavily with them. It’s not often that you find yourself in a death-trap, wondering if or when the door is going to come slamming shut, with you inside.

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Downtown Springfield, Va – Wednesday evening, June 16th, 1993… just after 8pm. First Lieutenant Emily Yang walked to her favorite sushi place, Kana Sushi, and hoped that there wasn’t too much of a line to get in. It wasn’t a huge place and there were times that seats were at a premium. So lost in thought was she that she didn’t see her long-time friend from college step out of the shadows and into stride with her. She was almost to the front door of the restaurant when she felt a tug at her sleeve and turned to see where it had come from. “Em!”

Anyone who knew her name was either her friend or a foe, so she did the only thing that her training had taught her: she went for her 10mm. Beretta while pushing the hand away and turning to her side, to give the person a smaller profile at which to aim. She moved so fast, in fact, that her pistol was up and aimed at her target before she even had time to recognize the person. “Freeze!” She screamed.

“Em! It’s me!” the person cried, dropping her wand and almost pissing herself.

“Lily?” Emily said, not dropping her aim one iota.

“Yes! It’s me.”

“When was the last time I saw you?”

“D.C. We were near the Washington monument. You were looking forward to your new job, but you couldn’t tell me what you were doing.”

“Thank you” she said, lowering her weapon and then tucking it away.

“Jeez, Em. You’ve gotten twitchy.”

“No choice, Lily. Job’s kind of important. Can’t really take chances.”

“I guess not!”

“Now, what are you doing here? And don’t you think we ought to get off the street?”

Emily Yang looked around and realized that they had attracted more than a few looks from people who had stopped to watch.

“Yea.. good idea.”

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

A half-hour later, the pair were at the back of the restaurant, washing down the last of their sushi with warm Sake. They had burned through several flights of makimono and sashimi and were both feeling stuffed and satisfied.

“That was good, Em. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. God knows, I’ve got no one else to spend money on.”

“What? No boyfriend? Boytoy?”

Emily laughed. “Girl-toy, but the point stands.”

That took Lily aback. “Really? Why is it that you’re just telling me this now?”

“Because five years ago, I was in the closet and I wasn’t ready to tell anyone. Not even my parents knew then.”

“So… girls? Anyone in particular?”

“Pfffff. My roomie in college and a girl at Basic Training, but that’s it.”

“No one since then?”

“No. I work 70 hours per week, Lily. There’s no one because there can’t be.”

“No time?”

“No, and worse, I have to report to the OPE everyone I date.”

“OPE?”

“Office of Professional Ethics. They oversee our behavior – making sure we report any contacts with foreign officers, for instance, or anyone who approaches us about our job. Anyone asking questions about what we do, that’s more than just a passing question.”

“Oh. Well, that sucks.” Lily said, frowning.

“Yea. It can be a downer, and for that reason, most people in the department who weren’t already married when they took the job, don’t date. Also, there’s no time. My schedule is brutal most days. I happened to have today off, because of a dental appointment this morning and a physical this afternoon.”

“Oh. Well, that’s fortunate.”

“Why?”

“Because I might have some information for you… “

Emily’s eyes grew wide and she looked at her long-time friend. “What kind of information?”

“The kind that comes from people who leave one kind of world for another kind of world….”

Suddenly, Emily understood what her friend was saying. Apparently, someone in the magical world who was Muggle-born had some information to pass along and Lily wanted to give it to her. “Oh. Here or somewhere else?”

“Somewhere else. I can give you a lift…” By which she meant that she could magically transport Emily somewhere.

Emily looked at her with a gimlet eye before shrugging her acquiescence. “Ok. But remember, I hate that way.”

“Yea, yea… I remember. Ever since your aunt…. “

“Fine. Just warn me, so I can close my eyes!”

Lily giggled and then said, “oh, all right! Spoilsport!”

Emily pursed her lips and look at her long-time friend with not-quite-a-sour look. She hadn’t side-alonged in more than ten years and she hadn’t planned to do it anytime soon, but needs be… and the information, if it was what she thought it might be, would be worth the sacrifice of discomfort and possible nausea.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Em! You know I’m just kidding!”

Emily nodded and then flagged their waitress over, so she could pay their bill. Once that was done, the two young women stood and walked out. Night had fully fallen, since it was after 9pm, and somehow, that made Emily feel less uneasy. No one would see them disappear, and that was all to the good.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Ten minutes later, they were standing in the full darkness (as much as was possible in a town of 375,000 people). Emily took out her 10mm. and then looked at her friend. “Ready when you are.” “Em! You don’t need that.”

“So you say, Lily, but you’ve not said where we’re going and I’m not taking any chances. It’s my neck on the line, after all.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Lily, I’ve not seen you in almost four years. You could be under the Imperius or anything else, and as much as I need the information you might have, I can’t take a chance.”

The answer made Lily want to throw up her hands in frustration, but there wasn’t anything she could say that would change her friend’s mind. Emily had always been stubborn. “Fine. Whatever. Take my hand and then close your eyes. We’ll leave the moment you touch me.”

Emily nodded and then took several calming breaths. When she was ready, she said so and then reached out with her hand and touched her friend’s hand, closing her eyes at the same moment. 

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

A second or so later, the two women appeared in the middle of a gravel lane, 112 miles from where they had just been. There wasn’t a streetlight to be seen, anywhere, and it was as dark as Emily could imagine. Only the moon was out and that was just barely so, at this time of night; creeping up in the sky, over the edge of the woods.

“Where are we?”

“Best you don’t know, Emily. This is one of our refuges, a sanctuary of sorts.”

Emily’s pistol was already out and she had quietly slid the safety to ‘off’. She always carried it with one in the chamber, so she had 17 rounds in this clip and another 16 in her backup clip. Every other bullet was silver, just in case she ran into something that needed it, and they were all hypersonic rounds (double +P), so that whatever they hit, they knocked down. It was a strange load-out, but given her family history and the ‘people’ she knew or knew of her, it was necessary.

“Where are we going?” She asked into the darkness. Her eyes were beginning to adapt, but she still didn’t trust herself not to trip over something and she was moving carefully. It didn’t help that she could hear something or maybe several somethings moving in the woods and it was creeping her out. She knew that magical areas had magical creatures, and some of those were bad news.

Off to her right, something moved that was not her friend, and her pistol came up as an automatic reflex while her eyes scanned for movement. It was something she had done over and over and over again at the FBI outdoor training center in Quantico, Virginia and now it was as natural as breathing.

Something was definitely coming towards them. It was a shadow, darker than the others, and it was moving quietly. Lily looked out into the darkness with trepidation. She didn’t see Emily drop to one knee and steady herself, but she could hear her friend’s breathing speeding up.

“Lily, what’s going on here?”

Lily could hear the nervousness in her friend’s voice and the stress. “I was told to bring you to this spot and then wait. That’s all I know.”

“Great” Emily muttered. They were god-knows-where, without supplies, a light, shelter, or anything, and they were relying on anonymous instructions? What the hell have I gotten myself into? She was answered a moment later when the angry red light of a Stupefy spell missed Emily’s head by a foot or two. She didn’t wait, but returned fire with three shots to what she thought was center-mass, and was rewarded with a satisfying scream of pain from thirty meters or so away from them. It was then that Lily finally took out her wand and created a bright light; something she had explicitly been told not to do, and sought out the source of the scream. It didn’t take long to find a man, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and writhing in pain, with blood dripping down his entire left side, from where at least one of Emily’s shots had landed. It was obvious that his entire left shoulder was a mess. “You BITCH! You shot me!”

Emily’s hand came up, with her pistol, and pointed it right between his eyes. “And I will fucking do more than that, if you don’t cooperate, asshole. You shot at me first.”

The man obviously knew enough to know that not cooperating was going to be a problem, as long as she held the pistol.

“Drop the wand, asshole.”

He did so and Emily moved to kick it away, into the darkness, but she miscalculated and her foot came down on it in such a way as to snap it in half. The man’s eyes flared with fury. “YOU BITCH! YOU SNAPPED MY WAND!”

Unused to being spoken to that way, Emily did the thing that came to mind and kicked him in the stones. This caused him to double-over in further agony and made Lily turn and shove Emily away, hard. “You stupid bitch! He was our contact!”

It was a stupid thing to do, Lily realized, and she immediately paid for it by way of a backhanded slap to the face that rang her bell and made her see momentary stars that were not of the celestial variety. “You arrogant cunt! You brought us out here, into the middle of nowhere, without a clear idea of what you were doing or if we were walking into a trap! This asshole shot at us, and now you’re mad? Where the fuck is your judgement?”

Lily could tell that her friend was furious and scared, since she was no more than a squib and the most vulnerable of the three people in this god’s forsaken darkness. And, Lily had to concede, she was right in her accusation that they were in this situation because Lily had done something dumb by bringing them here without a better idea of what they were getting into.

“You better see to your contact. Those bullets could cause him to bleed out.” Emily said, tiredly.

Shaking off the pain that she was feeling from ear to jaw, Lily turned away, walked over to where the man lay and knelt over him. She was pretty good at field medicine and she had him cleaned up, patched up, and numb in a couple of minutes’ work. It didn’t replace the blood that he had lost, which was considerable, but blood-replenishment potion wasn’t hard to get. He’d been in pain for a day or two, but he’d have no visible signs of his wounds.

When she was finished, he looked up at her and said, “Thanks.”

“Yea.. I’m sorry. Should have warned you that my friend is always armed.”

“You owe me a wand” he said, and there was no pleasantness in his voice. “I know. I’ll make good tomorrow, I promise. You need potions anyway and I’ve got to get those for you.” “Don’t bother” he said gruffly. “I’ve got them at the cabin. Necessity around here.”

“Where?”

“Up the path, about 300 yards. Warded so that only magicals can see it.”

“Can you walk?” She asked carefully.

The man got to his feet, gingerly. “Follow me.”

“Em. Come.”

Emily fell into step, more or less, but kept her pistol free. She liked Lily and trusted her a fair bit, but she had already been shot at once and there was no point in giving anyone a second opportunity.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Thirty minutes later, the man, Daniel, looked at Emily and said, “Sorry about the whole shooting thing…”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m glad you’re still alive and that Em was able to fix you up. I’d forgotten how fast magical medicine works.”

“Yea.. it’s pretty good, when you’ve got the right stuff” he said quietly. Then he turned away and looked around the room. It was clear that he was feeling frustrated without his wand. Lily saw it and turned hers, end over end, and handed it to him. Emily watched and nodded, her pistol still in her lap.

“Thanks” he said. “You owe me.”

“What was your last?”

“Hornbeam, with the fur and blood of a Dire Wolf. Thirteen and a quarter inches.”

Lily thought about that. The Hornbeam was a very strong, highly magical tree that lent itself to those who wanted to build and create, while the Dire Wolf was incredibly territorial, defensive, and magically resilient. It was an interesting combination.

He looked at hers, the one laying in his hand and give it a swish. “Yours?”

“Black Cherry, with the blood and feathers of a Giant Eagle.” He looked at it and waved it again, this time with it pointed towards his small kitchen. “Coffee. I need some.”

Lily nodded. “Makes sense. Your body’s been through a bit tonight. You could probably use the caffeine.”

He turned it over and handed it back to her, handle first, as was proper. “Thanks” she said, putting it away. “Now, can you please tell me why we were sent all the way down here?”

“Might as well” he said finally. “Let me get the coffee and then I will tell you.”

He wandered off to the kitchen and Lily turned to Emily. “I don’t know what he’s going to say, but I know it will be worth it.”

After a couple of minutes, Daniel walked back to them carrying a tray. “I don’t have a wife or anything, so I hope I’ve done this right” he said softly. Emily could tell that he was embarrassed. “It’s perfect, Daniel. Thank you.”

It was approaching 11:30 at night and she was tired. She wanted to get the information and go home.

Daniel sat down and took his mug in hand. “ok, so what I know is that a week ago, there was a huge spike in encrypted non-mag traffic, all over the globe. At the telescope, we tape it all, and store it. Magic doesn’t care anything about the no-mag encryption. It just busts it right the hell up and we get nice, clean messages. Of course, the no-mag’s don’t know shit about us doing that, but that’s their fucking problem.” He looked genuinely disgusted and for once, Emily couldn’t blame him.

“Anyway, about a week ago, the American no-mag government started getting real-time alerts from the British and the French about someone dropping massive meteors in the Algerian Desert. Turns out, there’s one fucking powerhouse witch who likes dropping meteors and she was testing out her powers. It would have been funny, but the Americans were going ape-shit and so were the brits. Only difference was, the British PM apparently told the American no-mag president to leave it the fuck alone and to mind his own business.”

Emily stared at him. “Are you fucking serious? The British PM told the President to mind his own business and to leave it alone?”

“Yea, I am. I can’t get you the tape, but it makes for interesting listening. And apparently, this witch, whoever she is, is so dangerous that the Brits have put out a “leave her the fuck alone” order to all of their people.”

Now Emily was really interested. “Does she have a name?”

Daniel grinned. “Yea. We figured it out about six months ago. Her name is Lady Harley Janel of the House of Ross. She’s, we think, a teenager at Hogwarts School. That’s in Scotland.”

Lily looked at him, agog at what she was hearing. “At this girl, Harley, is the one dropping meteors in Algeria?”

“Yea, and big ones at that. She lit up the entire NATO threat board with her ‘demonstration’.”

Emily whistled at that. Then a thought occurred to her and she gave voice to it because… why the hell not? “So she’s so powerful that she can reach up into space and pull down massive meteors? Could she destroy a satellite, do you think?”

He looked at her and said, “You’re kidding, right? She pulls down meteors, for fuck’s sake! Of course she could tear apart a satellite. Easy-peezy. She built a 7000 foot mountain, so why not?” This brought Lily fully awake. “SHE DID WHAT?”

“Oh yea. That’s when we first got wind of her name. She built a 7000 foot mountain in Scotland. The British PM had to give the magicals over there something like… 5 or 6 thousand square miles to hide the fucking thing.”

Emily and Lily both sat back and said, almost in unison, “Holy shit.”

“And you got all this off the no-mag’s encrypted radio traffic?”

“Yea… the radio antennae are pretty cool for that. We hear all sorts of stuff.”

Emily smiled. Now she knew for certain, within a 50 square mile radius, exactly where she was.

They talked for a while longer, until Emily yawned. “Sorry. It’s late.”

“I’ll take you home, Em. I’ll be back right after, if that’s ok, Dan?”

“Sure. Why not. I’ve not had company in a while. I’ve got the room for you.”

Lily nodded. “Ok. Em? Focus on your apartment. On your living room. Focus hard.”

Emily did so. She thought about the apartment and about the space, the way it was laid out. Something tickled the back of her mind for a moment and she assumed that it was her friend, getting the picture she needed for them to side-along.

“Got it. Daniel. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

And with that, the two women disappeared.

A moment later, a woman appeared out of the back bedroom. “How did it go?”

Daniel snorted. “Bitch shot me. You didn’t warn me she’d be armed and would shoot first.”

“Had no idea. That wasn’t in her profile. I assure you that it will be now. Do you think she’ll play ball?”

“Depends on what else she needs, if anything. One thing I picked up is that she’s gay and just admitted it to Lily.”

The older woman’s left eyebrow ascended towards her hairline. “Oh, now that’s very interesting. That most certainly wasn’t in her profile. Looks like we might need to go back and check to see who prepared her jacket in the first place. Two major pieces of information missing? That’s sloppy work.”

“Well, better get to it. We have to get on top of whatever the no-mags’ are doing and we have to do it fast. Our compatriots across the sea are already tearing things apart over there. Not that it will do much good in the long-term, but…. “

“If our people are to survive, we’ve got to get it done here, too.”

“Yea. I know. I have my orders and you have yours.”

“What about Lily?”

The older woman chuckled. “If you want to bang her, go ahead. Just remember, we don’t have time to be collecting strays. If she’s good for a tumble, go ahead, just remember to erase the memory completely afterwards if she can’t be of further use to us.”

“Thanks, Beth. Now go. And have a good night.”

The woman’s laughter tinkled in the air as she disappeared, leaving Daniel James Bond smiling into the night.

**{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

**Thursday, June 17th, 1993 – Hogwarts**

Harley Janel Ross moved with purpose and with power through the halls on her way to her last test, and those who saw her coming got out of her way. Even the seventh-year students deferred to her, since she was both a student and a teacher, as well as the First of the Twenty Eight and the most powerful magic user on the planet. She could have apparated straight to the classroom where the test was going to be proctored, but she was a believer in exercise and the walking did her good. It also helped her clear her mind in preparation for the test. It was her last test, and was going to be her greatest challenge… for keeping her mouth shut and her magic to herself. Harley knew what these proctors were all about now. Dobby had listened to them, along with other elves, and so she knew what they were looking for. They had gotten nothing, of course, because the H’Reem and the rest of the student body had seen to it that they got nothing. So had the professors, and between the two, it had worked. DADA students had shown them only what they, the proctors, had expected to see. No more, no less. No showing off, no special magics, and nothing that could give away just how much the students actually knew. Now she was going into the lion’s den.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The testing site for DADA was the double-sized classroom on the third-floor (west). It had a vaulted ceiling and double, reinforced walls. The floors were bare stone and there wasn’t a scrap of anything flammable anywhere in the room. At the center of the room were the three proctors that Harley had expected. Not hoped for, but expected. At the back of the room were her mother, the Headmaster, and Remus Lupin.

The test was supposed to start at 1pm and it was just a few minutes till when she entered. She shrugged off her lightest-weight cloak and walked to the center of the room. Dressed as she was in a tight, white t-shirt, her tightest-fitting jeans, and sneakers, she didn’t look all that formidable, but as the saying goes, looks can be deceiving.

Pushpa Kumar stepped forward and spoke. “Harley Janel Ross?”

She glared at him. “Yes. Why am I being tested alone?”

This question flustered him, as he wasn’t expecting such immediate push-back. He glared at her and said, “That’s none of your business, missy.”

“Missy? Seriously, you asshole? I am the Lady Ross. First of the Twenty Eight. I expected better out of you, since you’re a war mage and all… “

The two proctors behind him started laughing and he whipped around in anger, which made them stop. It wasn’t at all how he wanted this to start and he had already let his mouth get ahead of him. It didn’t help that she wasn’t at all taken in by his position. Harley didn’t see her god-father cringing, nor her mother. Only Remus was smiling, since he had a serious and specific hate-on for the IWC and for War Mages in general.

Pushpa was between a rock and a hard place suddenly, having let his mouth get ahead of him. He couldn’t apologize for his condescending tone with her, for fear of losing face, and he couldn’t not apologize, given her standing in British society and her power.

The decision was taken out of his hands when one of the other proctors, whose name she didn’t know, stepped forward and said, “On behalf of the IWC, I apologize, Lady Ross. My colleague let his mouth get ahead of him. I am certain that he didn’t intend to disrespect you or your position.”

Harley nodded. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

Pushpa stood and sputtered in frustration. He resented being upstaged by his colleague and worse, being forced into it by a child. Sirius watched the interplay, his wand in his hand, just in case he was forced to intervene.

Harley looked at them and, with more than a little snark, said, “Are we going to get on with this or not?”

The other proctor stepped forward, when it was clear that War Mage Kumar wasn’t going to be able to get his act together sufficient to conduct a proper test, and said, “Of course, Lady Ross. I am sorry that we’ve been delayed.”

Again, Harley nodded, but this time she was fighting a grin. She had won the first round against the War Mage, and that was all to the good, since she really didn’t even have to fire a shot. Finally, Pushpa found his voice and said, “Show us the Five kinds of shields.”

Harley took out her wand and went through the five types, including the Invictus shield. One of the proctors looked at her and said, “Do that last one again, Lady Ross.”

Harley did so. He looked at her and said, “You’re not using your wand for that at all, are you?”

Harley fought down a smirk. “No sir. I’m not. How could you tell?”

“Your wand didn’t move at all. You did the spell, but it was silent and wandless.”

“Y… yes sir. That’s correct.” Harley couldn’t lie to them during the test, since the room was heavily spelled for honesty.

“Do the five standard defensive techniques.”

Harley did them in order: Invisibility, disillusionment, silent steps, no scent, suppressed magical signature. The three proctors looked at her when she re-appeared. The War Mage challenged her: “You did that by will alone, didn’t you?”

Harley didn’t have any choice by to answer honestly, “Yes, sir.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

After a moment’s pause she said, “yes, sir.”

“What is that?”

“I can’t raise the dead.” It was a grudging admission and one that she really resented having to make, but it was the same truth that every magic user shared. No one could raise the dead. Not once their souls had passed over. Ghosts could be re-embodied, but that was because, for whatever reason, their souls hadn’t passed over.

“Do you have a Patronus form?”

Again, she was forced to answer truthfully. “Yes, sir.”

“Show me.”

Harley closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them in the presence of a glowing, giant, solid white stag that lit up the room and radiated power like none of them had felt before. At the back of the room, Sirius began weeping. “Prongs” he said, almost choking on the word. Remus gripped his arm and said, “She didn’t want to tell you, because she was afraid that you’d be sad.” The two proctors standing behind War Mage Kumar sucked in breaths. A solid Patronus, even for an adult, was an amazing feat. From 13 yr. old, it was close to a miracle. Isabelle watched, holding Sirius’ hand, and wondered just how she had managed to adopt and raise such a powerful child. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Isabelle whispered. Sirius nodded. “Yup. She’s breathtaking”. “I hope this asshole doesn’t provoke her. She’d wipe the floor with him” Isabelle added. Remus huffed under his breath. “Unconscious, she’s more dangerous than he is.” Unfortunately, not all wishes can come true and Isabelle’s was one of those. Pushpa Kumar had been selected for this mission because of his training, experience, and judgement. Unfortunately, someone had overlooked his ego and his ability to cope with being shown up. “NO! I will not tolerate this! You can’t be allowed…” Exactly what Harley wasn’t supposed to be allowed to do never made it out of the man’s mouth, but his wand came up and pointed at her… which was the exactly wrong thing for him to do. Harley stepped in and in a blinding movement, cut his arm off with a sweep of her light-sword. It was exactly the scene that the three adults in Harley’s life had not wanted to see happen, because it would make a permanent enemy of at least some at the IWC, and it would give away one of Harley’s closely held abilities.

Pushpa Kumar screamed in pain, with blood gushing out of the main vein that ran the length of his arm, and then fell to his knees.

“Hogwarts! HEAR ME. Get Poppy Pomfrey hear!”

The castle responded to the Headmaster’s command, which shocked both Isabelle and Remus, delivering Poppy Pomfrey right to the Headmaster’s side in a frenetic sparkle of magic. She had nothing but a day-robe on and a cup of tea in her hand… “Where…?”

Sirius reached out and put a soothing hand on her arm. “You’re in the DADA testing room. Third floor, west. This god-damned fool challenged Harley. Heal him please, but he loses the arm.” By this point, Pushpa Kumar had all but stopped moving and the blood flow had reduced to a trickle, which meant that he had all but bled out. The floor was an ugly crimson, everywhere and their pant-legs were soaked in the man’s blood. Sirius vanished it with a wave of his wand.

The two other proctors stood, watching, and not daring to say or do anything, since Harley was still standing with her sword, glowing with an angry, crackling hiss. Poppy worked furiously, first to cauterize the man’s stump and then seal the wound, so that he would stop bleeding. Once she had done that, she pointed her wand at his shirt and said, “Portus”. Poppy was the only other person in the castle, besides the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress, who was allowed to make and use port-keys for use within the Hogwarts grounds.

She tapped his shirt and disappeared along with him, headed, Harley thought, to either the Infirmary or to St. Mungo’s. She found that she didn’t care which it was.

Once they were gone though, the testing was either going to continue or it wasn’t. She preferred not, but it wasn’t her call, either. She was still a student and answerable to the system. It was a relief then when the older of the two remaining proctors looked at her and said, “I think we’re done here, Lady Ross. I am very sorry for War Mage Kumar’s actions here today. We were told to gather information on you and on your wife, but were forbidden from approaching either of you. I am sorry that War Mage Kumar’s hostility towards you, because of his failure to accomplish his mission, ended with this result.”

Harley cocked her head and looked at her God-father. “Da? Can I go now?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Go, find Hermione. I love you and I will talk to you later.”

She extinguished her sword, tucking away her wand before she hugged him and disappeared in the twinkle of black light. The older proctor’s jaw all but hit the ground. “That wasn’t Apparition.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Sirius said, flatly.

“And she’s how old?”

“She’s thirteen, and before you say anything, let me point out a couple of salient facts: One: She’s an arch-mage and the most powerful magic user on the planet. Two, she doesn’t care what anyone thinks. She has exactly zero fucks to give about what people think she owes them, the magical community, or anything else. Three, you have no idea what she’s capable of doing. We have kept most of it quiet and we are completely uninterested in answering the IWC’s questions. Four, if you bother her, she will come and find you, and then she won’t have to do that again, because she will, more than likely, kill you. Last, you will not repeat any of this to anyone, because if you do, I will come and find you. My Animagus form is a Grim, with all that entails. Are we clear?”

Both proctors swallowed hard and then nodded. “Yes, Headmaster. Perfectly clear.”

“Good. Now, I assume that you have bags to pack and places to go?”

Both nodded. 

“Good. Why don’t you be about that, then. It would probably do you good to be out of the castle in the next hour. Don’t you agree?”

Sirius almost laughed when both men scampered out of the room. Turning, he said, “Was I too hard on them, Moony?”

Stepping away from the wall that he had been leaning against, Remus Lupin walked towards the center of the room before saying anything. It was space that he felt very comfortable in, since DADA had been something he had been teaching, off and on, for the better part of the last fourteen years. 

“I don’t think so, Padfoot. They definitely had it coming, and given their admission … I think they got off easy.”

Isabelle closed the distance between where she had been standing and her soon-to-be husband. “I think you did fine, Sirius. I think Moony’s right. They definitely had it coming, given their admission and all. I’m frustrated that they got to see Harley’s light-sword, but that’s not exactly a secret, either.”

There was only so much CYA that they could do and Sirius knew it. They had gone out of their way, collectively, to keep the lid on information getting out of Hogwarts and they had been largely successful at it, but nothing and no system was perfect and that they had suppressed as much as they had was a testament to people’s personal loyalty towards Harley and Hermione and their willingness to frustrate the wider world through their silence.

The one thing that they could count on was that Fudge was a greedy son-of-a-bitch and that if they gave him first-look or first-access to any new magics, he’d continue to protect them to the best of his ability. Even that, though, had its limits.

They all knew that Delores Umbridge was going to be in residence in the school in the Fall and that she very much had her own agenda – one that was extremely counter to Harley and Hermione’s interests. Whether Harley killed her or not was going to be an open question until or unless they, as the adults in the room, could somehow manufacture a confrontation between the two. That meant giving “Umbitch” enough rope with which to hang herself.

One person whom Sirius had never, ever expected to be able to count on was Lucius Malfoy, but Harley and Hermione had him so tightly wound around their little fingers that it was almost cosmically funny. Lucius would do anything for those two girls and they, in turn, seemed to truly adore Draco, respect Lucius, and practically worship Narcissa, thinking that she represented the epitome of elegance and grace.

Sirius thought about it and realized that it past time to pen a note to the minor lord and see if he couldn’t get Lucius to corral the Hogwarts Board, with an eye towards at least tacitly giving the girls the ability to do whatever was going to be necessary to deal with Delores and her ridiculous blood-bigotry.

“Time to go, Siri” Isabelle said.

“You going be around later, Mooney? We need to talk about this Fall. I’ve a letter in mind to Lucius and Narcissa about Umbitch and what we’re going to do about her… “

“I’m around until tomorrow morning, then I’m gone until July 6th. Full moon is the 4th and I’m going to hole up at Harley’s hide-away in Norway for it.”

Sirius thought that was a good idea. Remus would have four thousand acres to run around in as a werewolf that would be secure and secluded. He’d alert the Norwegians to pull their people out the night before, to give Remus some peace and to make sure that he didn’t run into anyone during his transformation. That wasn’t to say that they wouldn’t record the event. It was rare to be able to see a Werewolf transformation for the whole process and it would be a learning experience for the Norwegian magical healers as well as Norwegian law enforcement. The Wolfsbane would certainly soften the transition, and make Remus’ recovery time shorter, but nothing worked nearly as well for recovery as a Muggle hot-tub, which was one of the reasons that Isabelle had purchased that specific property: The gorgeous rose-wood hot-tub that sat on the extended porch of the house, overlooking the lake. Harley and Hermione loved it (nude) and often frolicked in it while Isabelle and Sirius were “napping”.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Hogwarts Infirmary, thirty minutes later…**

“He leaves here when I say he’s ready and not a moment earlier!” Poppy said, her wand vibrating in her hand, pointed at the chest of the man who was intruding on her space.

The man looked at the wand-tip and hesitated. There was a spell at its tip, already loaded and waiting to fly, and he was just too close to do anything about it. The question was whether he could take the spell, whatever it was, and either block it or survive it. That was the problem with Mexican stand-offs: one wrong move and they could go disastrously wrong.

“Healer! Be reasonable. He’s not one of yours. We can take him where he can be treated more effectively.”

“No. Now get out. Before you find out what I did during the war.”

The man swallowed hard. He had no idea what she meant, but if she was implying what he thought she might be, should could be a great deal more of a threat than he wanted to handle. What tipped the situation was the sudden appearance of more than a dozen house-elves; not one of whom looked at all happy about his presence. “Lady Poppy? Are these men bothering you?” The predatory grin on the woman’s face worried the man, who had yet to properly identify himself. “Yes, Dobby. This bad man is trying to keep me from doing my job.” The well-dressed house-elf looked at the disagreeable man and for the first time, let his sharp, pointed teeth be seen. “Time for you to leave Lady Poppy alone. Dobby and Dobby’s friends make you leave!” With a snap of his fingers, the man disappeared.

“Dobby! Thank you!” Poppy said. “Where did you send him?”

Dobby’s smile was practically evil. “Kraken was hungry.”

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

What was left of the proctoring team assembled by the front door of Hogwarts at 3pm. It was clear that they were short several members. It was clear, as well, that the week hadn’t gone at all the way that they had been told to expect and every single one of them was happy to get out of the old castle.

“Where is Pushpa? Shouldn’t he be here?”

“He’s in the infirmary. He won’t be leaving here today.” One of them said, not elaborating any further.

“What about Samuel? Didn’t he go to get Pushpa?”

“No idea, but not our problem. He knew we were going to be leaving now.”

The shorter woman shrugged. It wasn’t her problem either. She wasn’t Samuel’s keeper and she really preferred it that way. She looked at her pocket-watch and realized that their portkey was going to activate soon. “Alright, everyone. Pick up the rope.” They all did so. “Ready to go in five… four…. three… two… one!” And they were gone, in a swirl of blue-and-white light.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Sirius Black watched in satisfaction from his tower balcony as the portkey for the International proctors activated. He was pleased to have them gone. They had been a source of stress for the entire week. The students and the professors in the school, working together, had gone out of its way to hide the students’ true abilities and had been largely successful. They had shown the proctors what they had expected to see, with a few pre-planned surprises mixed in, both to keep the proctors distracted from anything that the school was trying to hide and to keep them from digging for anything more. The only wrinkle was Pushpa Kumar himself, and Sirius has a plan for him. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t at all ethical, but there was no helping it.

One thing that Sirius Snape was famous for and that was some of the potions that he had created. The one in particular that Sirius was appreciative for in this instance was a liquid Imperious potion. It was a terrible potion, from one perspective, because there was no resisting it… but the upside was that it is permanent and they had to administer it only once.. and there were three doses of it in Snape’s storeroom, under magical seal.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

As the afternoon clouds descended on the Castle, cold winds blew in from the fjord. Mt. Harley was its own weather-center because of its height and it blocked winds coming from the North Sea and caused them to stall over the area, which transformed a nice day to one that was cold and blustery.

If there was an upside though, the mountain had attracted a large family of snow-giants, as well as an entire clan of Romanian Longhorn Dragons. Those species, in turn, had begun to attract others, helping to significantly increase the pace of the re-wilding of the area. It was something that had Rubeus Hagrid over the moon, since he was deeply invested in seeing the wild lands around the Castle return to their previously highly magical state.

Many students, having properly notified the Deputy Headmistress, gathered their trunks and travelled home magically. By the time that 5pm rolled around, the school would be mostly empty; leaving only those few who had to stay late or who were planning on taking the train home in the morning. Harley and Hermione gathered their things and left for Hermione’s parents’ home after letting Sirius know that they would meet him in London in two weeks’ time – which left Sirius and Isabelle together for the evening.

“Is everyone gone?” Isabelle said, as she stripped off her dress and casually tossed it over the back of one of the chairs in his private bedroom.

Sirius watched her from the doorway, smiling. He loved watching her undress. She was so lithe and fit that it took his breath away and her tiny, pink silk bikini panties did nothing but highlight how beautifully built she was. “Everyone’s gone who’s going to leave today. Harley and Hermione left a little while ago for Hermione’s parents’ house. Draco and Daphne left, hand-in-hand, for his parents’ house. Susi Bones left in the company of Fay Dunbar and Ginny Weasley.”

“Oh? That’s interesting. Susi’s not going to the Ossuary?”

“No. She’s on the outs with her Aunt right now and apparently, Fay Dunbar’s parents extended her house-privileges. Ginny tagged along because she can’t stand her little shit brother, not that anyone can really, and didn’t want to be around him for the summer.”

“Hmmmm. I think I remember Harley saying something about that, but the details are fuzzy.”

Isabelle stripped off her knickers and propped herself up in the middle of the bed, with her legs spread lewdly and her fingers playing in her slit. “Come fuck me…”

Sirius closed the door behind him and banished his clothes with a wave of his hand. His wandless magic had improved, after the lessons with Harley and he enjoyed showing off at times. “I thought you’d never ask…”

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Hermione looked at her wife as she laid back on the European double bed which her parents had recently purchased for her and Harley, after they had reconciled to their daughters’ relationship with Harley. “Glad to be done?”

Was she? Harley thought to herself. “I… oh, I don’t know. Yes? Maybe? Kind-of? I mean… There’s so much to learn still!”

Hermione laughed and smiled. “Oh, love. You know that you sound just like I did before I went off to Hogwarts, while we were with your mother. It was crazy, but awesome. There was so much new stuff!” Harley snuggled close to her wife. They were both naked; something that was their norm now. It had taken a long time for Harley, in particular, to be comfortable enough with her own body to be naked in Hermione’s presence. Her first magical maturation had helped a lot, since her body had developed significantly and she had grown more than four inches. She had gone from feeling like a little girl to something more like an adult. Now, as she approached her 13th birthday, her hormones were running rampant and Hermione’s touch was no longer something that made her hesitant; rather, it was making her nuts with desire.

Both girls defined the term nubile, with their full, rich lustrous hair, firm breasts, ultra-slim hips, perfect bottoms, and silky-smooth skin… and that was both a blessing and a curse. For each other, it was a blessing and wonderful, but it caused a fair bit of jealousy too, and they both knew it. It also made it difficult to go out anywhere, because boys and young men tended to gravitate to them immediately and didn’t like being told no.

“Hmmmmm. I’ve missed this” Hermione said, touching Harley’s breasts as she leaned close for a kiss.

Harleys’ bright eyes sparkled as she pushed her chest into her wife’s hands and met Hermione’s lips with her own. It felt amazing to be able to luxuriate in her wife’s touch, knowing that no one else was around and no one would be listening to their conversation or bothering them about silly school problems. They had almost three months off! Three months to touch, to kiss, and to make love, without being bothered by anyone. “Me too.”

“You know we’re going to be some of the youngest-ever graduates of Hogwarts, right?”

Harley looked at her beautiful wife and wondered what was bothering her. “Yea.. I thought about it. Why? Is it a problem?”

Hermione scrunched up her nose in a way Harley hadn’t seen before and she hesitated for a moment. Harley could tell that she was thinking about something specific and wondered what it was, so she reached out delicately and dragged one finger down between her wife’s breasts, before reversing direction and dragging the same finger across Hermione’s beautiful, lustrous skin and up to the point of her chin. Hermione shivered at the touch, and then reached out with her free hand to put Harley closer. “It’s not a problem, really” she said quietly. “It’s just that… I really want to go to college once we’re finished with Hogwarts. We’d be young, getting in, but we could finish by the time we’re 20 or 21 and we’d be able to do anything we want or go anywhere. My parents are … well, they’re expecting me to go and I think I’d like to… “

Harley understood. It was something that the Muggleborn students at Hogwarts talked about a lot and while Harley had never really participated in those conversations, she had listened. Hermione wasn’t really any different than any of the students whom they called friends. They all wanted to experience the wider world and that, to them, meant going to University.

“We’d have to sit our A-levels, right?” Harley asked her.

Hermione nodded and then said, “Well, in the states, it’s the College boards, right?”

“Guess so. I never really paid much attention. Mom always told me that I’d be going off to school and didn’t say much about anything after that.”

“And then things changed….”

“Yea. We’ve still got Riddle to deal with, though I’m less worried about him than the bitch, Umbridge, this Fall, or the purebloods who are supporting her. And we’ve got the Grail to think about some day.” The Grail was something that sat in the back of Hermione’s mind nearly every day. It was her worry, and Harley’s as well, that they would always be worthy of it, and of the responsibility that would someday fall to them to guard it. The Grail’s judgement that her purity would be found in loving and protecting Hermione wasn’t something she could shake, even if she wanted to, which she definitely didn’t. Hermione really was her everything.

“I love you, Hermione. Wherever you go… I go.

Snuggling close to her wife, Hermione leaned forward to capture Harleys’ mouth with her own, while letting her magic free to intertwine with Harley’s, as it constantly wanted to do. “I know, love. I know.” Unseen by either of them, Miranda Granger watched from her daughter’s bedroom door. She was shocked that she could actually see her daughter’s magic now, twirling and intertwining with her daughter-in-law’s. It was beautiful to watch, though she knew she shouldn’t. Hermione deserved her privacy, so Miranda backed out, closing the door ever so quietly behind her. She wondered, as she turned and walked down the hallway, if all magical relationships were like that. She’d have to ask Sirius and Isabelle about it when she saw them next.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Saturday, June 19th, 1993 - Kielder Island, Falstone, Hexham UK – Home of the Malfoy family**

As the sun’s first red light crested the ridge east of the Island where they kept their home, Daphne stirred. Draco was curled up behind her, spooning her. His room was cold, since there was no fire in the fireplace and he had not laid on a heating charm the night before. The island too was cold, since it sat in the middle of an enormous lake, and the late spring winds swept over it… but having Draco wrapped up around her kept her warm. As she drifted in and out of sleep, she could feel Draco’s hard, insistent manhood pressing against her ass, which was going to become a very well-travelled path, if she had any say.

Her dreams were filled with thoughts of her kneeling in front of a naked, buff, and cut Draco, worshipping his rampant erection before bending over a table and being taken, hard. It made her wet with unfulfillable desire, which was totally normal, if not incredibly frustrating. Like Hermione, she was a year and three months from turning fifteen, which was the absolute cut-off for intercourse. Knowing her parents as she did though, she wouldn’t have permission to bed Draco until at least a year hence December, just to be on the safe side. 

Their relationship had taken an extreme turn for the positive over the year and he was more than enthusiastic about the betrothment contract that his father was going to write for him and Daphne. They were still young, but their magic was exceptionally sympathetic, like Harley and Hermione’s, albeit without the tell-tale lightshow.

To Daphne’s amusement, there was a poster of Harley and Hermione on the wall to the left of Draco’s walk-in closet. She had never suspected Draco of being a fan-boy, but she could hardly blame him, since most of the children in their grade had the same poster. It had been created by Colin Creevey, who was the ultimate fan-boy, since he had founded their fan-club and took pictures of the duo whenever and wherever he could.

The difference between the two was that while Colin Creevey was more than a little over-the-top with his obsession with the girls, he wasn’t a part of the H’Reem, while Draco was, as Harley’s number two. People listened to Draco and what he said was believed to carry Harley and Hermione’s imprimatur. They also took Draco seriously because in his own right, Draco was a quickly maturing force. Young as he was, his magic was wandless and instinctive, and as such, quick, flexible, and fast. Even the teachers didn’t want to duel with him. Draco was also posh. He was elegant and dignified and, when he wasn’t clowning around with his friends on the Quidditch pitch or doing imitations of the professors, a great role model for Hogwarts students. His prior airs and arrogance forever a thing of the past.

Daphne was not amused by that though, and she told anyone who would listen, since she was just as powerful as Draco. The difference between them was that she just wasn’t as fast with her casting and that made her vulnerable in a duel or in a fight. She was perfectly cognizant that speed was a matter of practice… and Draco practiced a lot, because he believed what his father had been teaching him of late, “A true Slytherin’s lot, Draco, is patience, hard work, and dedication, because great men are not born, but rather are self-made. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. I tried to take a short-cut with Riddle, and I failed! I paid for my stupidity and I am still paying for it. Don’t let that happen to you.”

She was also 100% content not to compare herself to Harley or Hermione, since it was perfectly clear, throughout the school, that doing so was a path to pointless angst, heartburn, and frustration. The Lady Magic herself had brought them into the world and anyone with even a scintilla of sense knew that it was for a purpose. What that purpose was, no one knew, but there was a purpose. 

As for everyone else… well, there was reward in being loyal to the girls. They treated those who were true friends well. That meant, among other things, first access to new magics, and there was no greater reward than that. It also meant being protected by the girls, since no one in their right mind would deliberately antagonize someone who was friends with Harley and Hermione.

It also meant recognition, for her own worth and because she was part of the inner cadre that was the H’Reem. When she walked the halls of Hogwarts, she did it with confidence and pride. People opened doors for her, they stood when she entered a room, and they listened to her answers, when she spoke. She was never talked down to or belittled because ‘she was just a witch’. When she walked as a part of the phalanx that was the H’Reem fully turned out, she feared no one and nothing.

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**Meeting of the IWC, IWC Headquarters, Vienna, Austria – Monday, June 21st.**

“The Eleven thousand, three hundred, and thirty-seventh meeting of the IWC will come to order!” the Supreme Mugwump declared, hitting the table with his gavel. “Will any new representatives please rise to be recognized.” None did, and with that, the meeting got underway.

“The Chair recognizes War-Mage Pushpa Kumar as a guest of the Chair. Are there any others who wish to have guests recognized?”

No one stood, so the gavel came down again. “We will now receive the report of the ad hoc committee to investigate Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Chair recognizes Pushpa Kumar, to speak for five minutes. Are there any objections?”

Hearing none, Pushpa Kumar stood and walked to the lectern. It was obvious that he was off-balance and struggling, which evoked sympathy in many of the members. After his papers were arranged by an aide-de-camp, Pushpa looked around. “Good morning, distinguished members and friends. I want to say thank you to all of you, for your well-wishes and your kind words, as I have adjusted to my situation. As some of you know, this has been a difficult time for me personally and I find that I need to proffer my retirement documents as a result of my situation. I can no longer serve effectively as a War Mage for this body.” He looked around and saw both shock and sadness on the faces of his many friends and supporters, which forced him to pause to collect himself and think about what he wanted to say and what he could say.

He wanted to scream, to rant, and to rage. He wanted to tell them that the students at Hogwarts were dangerous and had to be corralled, for the good of the magical world. He wanted to tell them that Hogwarts had become a death-trap for anyone seeking to harm the two young Arch-mages who lived there. But he couldn’t. That was the power and the danger of the Liquid Imperious when compounded by a permanency charm. He knew the truth, but could never say it, even at his death. “Finally, all I can say about Hogwarts is this: Leave them alone. We have submitted the grades for all of the exams we proctored. That is all that we can do. Just… leave them alone. Thank you and good-bye.”

He stepped off the platform, and walked towards the exit, after thanking his friends and colleagues. He would never be seen at the IWC again.

People watched him go, and there was a palpable sadness in the room. It was hard to see a proud man brought low. It was even harder to see a man’s judgement catch up with him, as it apparent had done in this case.

The silence persisted for almost two minutes, as the international body watched Pushpa Kumar take his final leave. The Supreme Mugwump shook his head and wondered just what the Hell had happened at Hogwarts that one of their most decorated War Mages, a man who had seen countless battles during his life, could return from a simple information-gathering mission minus his wand-arm. It was an unspeakable injury that would cripple him magically for the rest of his life.

Finally, he turned and spoke to the three hundred+ men and women, who represented every nation on Earth, plus several places that the Muggles didn’t know existed. “Given the War Mage’s admonition, we will now hold a vote to table a motion to compel testimony from the Arch-mages Harley Janel Ross and Hermione Dagworth-Ross née Granger. All in favor, please touch the white voting-block in front of you with your wand. All opposed, please touch the black block.”

When all the votes were counted, the nay-votes barely ruled the day. That made the Supreme Mugwump swallow hard, since it put him between a rock and hard place. Banging the gavel, he looked around before saying, “The Nays have it, 334 to 326. We will now proceed to debate a motion to compel the testimony of the Arch-mages Harley Janel Ross and Hermione Dagworth-Ross née Granger, residents of the United Kingdom of Great Britain. Before we begin, I remind this body that voting for this underlying motion means that the body will have no choice but to try to enforce its vote. I further remind this body that the Arch-Mages in question are minors, and as such, are protected by the laws governing the treatment of minors.

Further, I remind all of you that if the Arch-mages in question say No, then this body will have to decide whether it wants to try to use force to compel said testimony and whether the cost of doing so is worth it. It will be on your heads to decide whether it is worth blood spilled and lives ended to enforce the edicts of this body. For myself, since I cannot vote, I will tell you that I believe that no edict is worth the loss of any of our number. I have seen what these Arch-mages can do. One of them built a mountain – a feat that has never been accomplished before, in the entire history of magic. The other summoned a Hebridean Black Dragon, by force of will, over many thousands of miles. If this body chooses, in its foolishness, to try to compel their testimony… well, God save you all. Now, having said that, who rises to speak on behalf of the motion to compel?”

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

In the end, the vote on the question wasn’t close. Only two rose in support of compelling the testimony. More than fifty spoke against it. Some emphasized the baseness of trying to compel young teen girls to testify. Others spoke about what it meant to try to preserve the dignity and honor of the IWC and how compelling teenage girls to testify didn’t comport with doing so. Another group spoke about the reports of meteors - massive, nation-ending kinds of meteors – terrified them and how challenging that was not worth it.

The final group spoke about the War-mage Pushpa Kumar, how something didn’t add up, and that something wasn’t right in the story he had told. They also reminded the IWC about the War-mage’s final warning: Leave them alone. They spoke forcefully about Pushpa Kumar’s incredible bravery and how he had never been afraid of anything or anyone during his more than one hundred years of service and yet, somehow, he had been convinced that he had to deliver to the IWC the message: leave them alone.

By the time everyone had spoken, the decision had already been made. The Supreme Mugwump could see it in the looks on their faces. He had gotten to them, which allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief. He didn’t relish the idea of going to war with people who built mountains or who could call them down from the heavens.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Kielder Island, Falstone, Hexham UK – Tuesday, June 22nd.**

Lucius Malfoy rubbed his left forearm and then shook his head as he looked out over the field that lay just to the east of the house. The glass double-doors slid out of the way, silently, and a breeze swept in, filling the house with the smell of the summers’ first flowers.

Narcissa watched him, quietly, from across the room and wondered, not for the first time by any means, what her husband was thinking. He had always been guarded in his thoughts, but since having the dark mark ripped out of his arm and body, he was different. When she told him that they were going to have a healthy, happy witch for their next child, he had actually cried. She had never, ever seen him cry and she still didn’t quite know what to do with that. Not that it bothered her, but it had been such an honest, happy reaction that she had been more than a little taken aback.

Dressed in little but a pair of sheer silk knickers and a matching camisole, she walked across the room. Actually, she felt like she waddled across the room, but Lucius had insisted that she was still beautiful and graceful and that he loved every bit of her, baby belly and all.

She was five months pregnant and if everything worked out, she’d be giving birth sometime in late September or the first week of October. She honestly hoped that it was September, since that would make their daughter older in school, which she knew would be a blessing for her. They already had a name for the baby – Cassia – and the girl would carry the middle name, Jane, in honor of their (now) patroness, Hermione Jane Dagworth-Ross. And it wasn’t like that wasn’t perverse after a fashion, since they had always considered themselves wealthy enough to be the patrons (for their own selfish reasons) to be the patrons of others. Especially Lucius, who had used the patronage system to further the ends of the dork lard. Now that that was a thing of the past, the Malfoy family turned to the Dagworth-Ross family for its favor and support and had gotten it, in the form of support for their son, Draco, and access to new magics.

“Lucius, love?” she said as she sidled up to him. “What are you thinking, husband?”

He turned to her, with his startling grey eyes and handsome face, and smiled, even as he slipped a hand around to the small of her back and pulled her close. “Hello, love. Dressed to make yet another baby?” He said, as he slid his hand down from the middle of her back to her ass; cupping it with his strong hand and making her mew with need.

One thing about being pregnant that Lucius had found so amusing was that Narcissa was horny pretty much all of the time, when she didn’t have morning sickness. Her pussy was almost always wet and ready and this morning was no exception. She leaned close to him, so that she could whisper into his ear while he pushed his fingers into her pussy.

“I was going to ask you what you were thinking as you stared out the window, but that can wait. Take me to our room and eat my pussy, and then fuck me as a proper husband should.”

Lucius grinned. He was, if nothing else, an obedient husband. “Close your eyes, love” he said, before he closed his own and transported them in an instant to their 2nd floor suite, where they would spend the better part of the day ‘practicing’.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The unit of the Norwegian Magical Police that handled high-risk / high-intensity situations was, itself, on high alert. The Ladies Ross had returned to their summer home and that meant that at any time, seemingly impossible magics might be performed on Norwegian soil. It was the department’s job to watch, and to intervene if necessary (or possible).

The IWC had chosen, in its wisdom, to leave the two mighty magicals alone, which was good for all concerned, since a magical fight, on Norwegian soil, was the last thing the department wanted. It was bad enough that two of the departments’ agents had quit. Good agents were always really hard to replace. It was worse because the agents had made the mistake of getting too close and had been caught. Not by the Arch-mages, but by the girls’ god-father, who was a fully-realized magical Grim, in the company of a fully turned out Werewolf. There were very, very few things in the magical world more terrifying than a Were, since they were resistant to pretty much everything except silver. A Grim, on the other hand, was the magical equivalent of the “Black spot” or the horse’s head in your bed. Both the Grim and Werewolf were Kafka-esque nightmares come to life. Not that the agents had any idea who Franz Kafka was, but it didn’t matter. The head of the Norsk magisk politi was furious, and not at the Arch-magi, but at his own department, since it was their job to know when the Full moon was and not risk possible exposure to a fully-realized Werewolf.

Christine Tiegen, super-model turned mom turned spy, worked for the head of the Norsk magisk politi. Her day-job was to keep Torbjørn Lie, grandson of Trygve Halvdan Lie, organized and out of political trouble. Her night-job was to spy for the IWC. Like her sister-spies, she spoke nine languages, and could fudge it in a couple more. The difference was that she was witch who could be open about being a witch, since she worked for a magical department and not for what she cheerfully called, “the dumb-ass Muggles”.

Also like her sisters, Christine had a body to die for, since she was a witch and would stay young and beautiful well into her seventies. It was an advantage she used without remorse, since it made both men and women stupid. Men, largely, because they were soft-headed and easily manipulated by smart, educated, beautiful women and women, because they were either jealous or horny.

This day was no exception to the ‘keep the boss out of trouble’ edict. Because word had traveled to the Director’s office that the two British arch-magi were in-country, he was forced to act as though he was addressing the issue, even though there just wasn’t very much that actually could be done about it. It wasn’t as though he could just go to them and ask them to leave or something, since they would most assuredly say no. They had no reason not to stay for the summer and there was nothing that could or would motivate them to leave. The down-side was that he couldn’t just ignore them, either. Two of his senior field people had quit, and that was a loss he couldn’t paper over. Further, if he did nothing, that would be seen as weakness and it would make the papers. It would also get to the desk of the Minister for Magic, who reported directly to Gro Harlem Brundtland, the current Prime Minister of Norway. The Prime Minister might very well start asking questions about why the two most dangerous, most powerful magic users in the whole world were spending the summer in his country.

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	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A council of War is called, rights are preserved, and a witch has something to sell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205, this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

"b>

**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 12  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
[the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com](mailto:thescribbler@shadowgard.com)**

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**From Chapter 11…**

…Like her sisters, Christine had a body to die for, since she was a witch and would stay young and beautiful well into her seventies. It was an advantage she used without remorse, since it made both men and women stupid. Men, largely, because they were soft-headed and easily manipulated by smart, educated, beautiful women and women, because they were either jealous or horny. This day was no exception to the ‘keep the boss out of trouble’ edict. Because word had traveled to the Director’s office that the two British arch-magi were in-country, he was forced to act as though he was addressing the issue, even though there just wasn’t very much that actually could be done about it. It wasn’t as though he could just go to them and ask them to leave or something, since they would most assuredly say no. They had no reason not to stay for the summer and there was nothing that could or would motivate them to leave. The down-side was that he couldn’t just ignore them, either. Two of his senior field people had quit, and that was a loss he couldn’t paper over. Further, if he did nothing, that would be seen as weakness and it would make the papers. It would also get to the desk of the Minister for Magic, who reported directly to Gro Harlem Brundtland, the current Prime Minister of Norway. The Prime Minister might very well start asking questions about why the two most dangerous, most powerful magic users in the whole world were spending the summer in his country.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Monetjorna Lake, Norway - Tuesday, June 22nd**

Three hundred yards into the woods, Andrej Knutsen and Oleg Olfsen “The Big O”, as his friends called him, watched as four heavily-armed Goblins delivered a large, tarp-covered, wooden pallet to the deck of the house where the two Magi were known to be staying. It was too far away for scrying or any kind of detection to work, and they didn’t want to give away their position, or the fact that they were intruding on the Magi’s property. They were both sure that that would not go over well and might very well lead to a confrontation, which they would lose. Neither had any idea that their presence had already been detected and would be addressed shortly.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

On the other side of the lake, where the huge, still smoldering meteors lay, Hermione thought about the plan she had come up with and wondered, not for the first time, whether they were doing the right thing. They had talked to Hermione’s parents at length about the plan, as well Sirius, Remus, and Alastor Moody. None of them could find any fault with it, and it seemed like it was designed in a way that would keep it away from prying eyes – especially the Muggles, and in particular, the Americans and the Brits.

Hermione looked at the Runes-sets that she had created, and the fine, filigree stencils that she planned to use to emboss them onto each rock. They would work, she was sure, though it had never, ever been tried before… at least not this way. It would also take a shit-ton of blood, willingly given (hers and Harley's), and literally a metric ton of gold (which wasn’t the problem, since they had it in abundance). Golems were usually created using special magical clays or stones taken right from on top of the ley-lines that were the magical life-blood of the world. This was an entirely new way of creating them, and if it worked, would create a force that was unique in all the world, as well as being unstoppable.

The Gold was on the deck, waiting to be used, so that wasn’t a problem. The issue, to the extent that there was one, was two-fold: One was the drawing of the blood. This was going to require tapping a main vein, which wasn’t something that anyone did casually. It was also going to require blood from Harley’s mother, her parents (a pint each), Sirius, and Remus – not including the two pints from both her and Harley. Hermione figured that it would be enough to create a cloud of blood that they could disperse quickly, and would settle down on all of the Runes, on each of the rocks. Besides the blood, plus their magic, would be massive diamonds, also etched with Runes and bathed in blood. They were the key activators and if all went well… would be the final pieces to create more than 100 massive, stone guardians that would be immortal and indestructible and loyal forever to her, Harley, Isabelle, Sirius, Remus, or any of their children by blood. They would be an army such as no one could resist. 

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Tuesday, July 6, 1993**

Two weeks after beginning, Harley and Hermione were almost finished with the first part of their Golem-making efforts. More than three-quarters of the gold had been used up, and all of the huge diamonds that they had created were now embedded in the Golems. They were ready for the last and hardest part. Andrej Knutsen and Oleg Olfsen had watched, every single day, and reported everything they saw - not knowing that their reports were creating panic and chaos in the leadership of their department and then all the way up the chain, to the Minister for Magic himself and the Prime Minister of Norway. “They’re building a what?”

“An army, Mr. Prime Minister. A huge, stone army of Golems.”

“A what?” the Prime Minster again asked his Minister for Magic.

“Sir, they’re building huge, stone men. Mobile, massive, completely indestructible, immortal, and incorruptible. Think an American Abrams M1A2 main battle tank, but instead of seventy or so tons, these golems will weigh…. Something in the order of several thousands of tons.”

“And these two are building them? How many are we talking?”

“We counted one hundred and ten of them, Sir. The smallest.. about seventy tons. The largest? At about 170 English pounds per cubic foot? We figure something like 9000 tons.”

“And what do we know about their intentions?”

“We have no idea sir, but they made it very, very plain to the IWC that they just want to be left alone. They could be building these golems just to see if they can do it. They might also be something for use to protect Hogwarts. Again though, we just have no idea. They are very, very protective of their privacy and frankly, no one dares invade it. The last time someone did, they banished the team, spreading them out over a distance of 12,000 miles. They sent one wizard from Hogwarts to the southern end of Algeria and another, all the way to the southern end of the Kamchatka peninsula in Russia. The ones who brought us this information barely got out with their lives, after being chased all night by a massive Werewolf.”

“Is there any way of simply sending them a letter? Explaining our concerns and asking them to please not declare war on us without talking to us first?”

The PM’s secretary, Ms. Gretchen Karlsen, watched from the corner and listened to her boss talk to his advisors. She admired his courage and his willingness to listen to what they had to say. Not that she would have done it any differently really, but she was a witch and had a different set of responsibilities. One of those responsibilities was to avoid, to the greatest extent possible, the notice of anyone like the two Arch-mages, lest they decide that she annoyed them for some reason and had to be eliminated. A dead spy wasn’t useful to anyone and staying beneath the notice of powerful magical people was one way to protect her cover.

It was unfortunate, to put it mildly, that the magical world was unforgiving that way, and there was just nothing that could be done about it. Murder, and killing in general, was just far too easy and was often the way that disputes were resolved. The weak stayed out of the way of the powerful, even if the weak person in question was just too far below the powerful one even to be noticed, and the powerful did not clash unless they had to, since no one wanted to find out who the most powerful person truly was. War, as the Goblins said, was rough on the china and not helpful to anyone. The Minister for Magic responded to his boss with what he hoped was a thoughtful idea. “Sir, there’s a rumor that Tony Blair knows the two witches personally. We might be able to ask him to intervene on our behalf.”

“And how do we know that he has a working relationship with them? The PM asked.

“Well, not to sound cynical or flippant sir, but… they haven’t killed him yet”.

The PM paled at that. “And that’s your best measure?” he asked, angrily now.

“Sir, it might be helpful for you to know that the magical world is a very brutal, Darwinian place. While murder is officially illegal, and can get you imprisoned under certain circumstances, the truth is that the most powerful magicals more or less live by their own set of laws. It doesn’t help that killing is far, far too easy in the magical world. There are literally dozens of ways to kill someone that are not detectable, magically or otherwise. There are hundreds of curses, spells, charms, and other bits of magic that when used properly, are fatal to the recipient.”

The PM for Magic paused for a moment before continuing, “Additionally, the truth is that some magicals, because of their power, are a law unto themselves, simply because no one has the ability to enforce the normal rules on them. These two girls are exactly that. They are a law unto themselves, simply because they have the ability to destroy entire countries in a matter of minutes. No one magical, or group of magicals could ever stand against them and that means that by-and-large, they do what they want, when they want, wherever they want. The only upside is that they seem to be exactly what they look like: two young girls, very much in love, who just be left alone and don’t seem intent on hurting anyone. Now, there is a caveat to that and that is that Harley Janel Ross, who is the more powerful of the two, if that’s even possible, has said explicitly… ‘Leave Hermione Alone” and has made it clear that she will kill, without remorse, and without warning, anyone who dares hurt or threaten Hermione.”

The PM sat back and took all of that in; rubbing his face and thinking about what was in the best interest of his country. It was clear that his military would be useless against the girls, unless they were able to catch them by surprise somehow, and overwhelm them with firepower. But one second’s warning was probably all that the two needed to get away, and then all Hell would break loose… so that was out. The other thing that was difficult was that nothing they were doing was in any way illegal, so he really didn’t have grounds to issue orders against them.

“Is there any reason at all to believe that these golem-things are in any way aimed at us?”

The Minister for Magic shook his head. “No. And we don’t know if what they’re doing is actually going to work. Our best people are thinking about it right now, but the magic is so advanced that they’re uncertain. If it does work, then we’d have to be at least concerned… but it’s possible that the golems will be sent to the area around Hogwarts. That’s what I’d be doing, if I were in their shoes.”

Genuinely puzzled, the PM asked, “Why? What’s happening at their school that you want to have that kind of army around it?”

The Minister for Magic looked at his boss and then said, “Well, a couple of things. One, the Arch-mages have been creating advanced magics that they are teaching only to the students at the school. One of those things is how to fly without a broom, which is frankly so novel that I’m not even sure how to think about it. Another is how to move magically, over thousands of miles, in an instant, without regards to wards or other magical barriers. Just that alone has magic users around the world completely furious, as all of their security measures have just gone out the window. And that alone has enough people mad as hell, so that I’d be concerned about security.”

That gave the Norwegian PM a chill. “Could they come here if they wanted?”

The Minister for Magic was magically unable to lie to his boss, oath-bound as he was, even though there were times when he desperately wanted to do so. Now was one of those times. “Yes, sir. We have no defenses against them.”

“They could come right to this room? And we couldn’t do anything to stop them?”

The Minister for Magic nodded. “Yes, sir. They could come in here directly, kill us all, and there’s nothing and no one who could stop them.”

“Seriously?” the PM asked, not really wanting to hear any more of his subordinate’s answer.

“Mr. Prime Minister, if you don’t believe me, ask Tony Blair’s head of security. He will tell you that the two girls cannot be stopped, even by the very best, professional bodyguards.”

“How certain are you of that?” the PM asked.

“Very, sir. There’s a recording, so I’ve been told, of the British PM meeting with the two girls at a military instillation of some kind, and his bodyguards being disarmed and knocked out even before they realized that the girls were present. I’ve also been told, reliably, that this girl, Hermione, has visited Prime Minister Blair’s office twice, and once, she was bearing the heads of two wizards who had been sent to kill her by one of Blair’s General Staff. She apparently made it plain that if there were another attempt on her life, that she would come and collect his head.” “Dear God…” the PM said, as he slumped back in his chair.

“Quite”, the Minister for Magic said.

“And you say that they are teaching this skill now to the students at their school?”

“Yes sir. The Italians hosted an international, inter-collegial competition not so many months ago, in the Colosseum in Rome. Apparently, the students used it to great effect to make their appearance, even though the Italians had done all sorts of magic to prevent exactly that kind of thing. The Hogwarts students were able to come and go magically, to the dismay and frustration of the Italians. When the Italians demanded that the Headmaster of Hogwarts make that ability freely known, he told them to stuff it. Apparently, the students are keeping it ‘in-house’ and aren’t teaching anyone else. Not even the parents of the students. If I were a betting man, and I’m not, I’d say that these two Arch-mages are building an army, certainly, but it’s not for use against us at all, but against the entire magical world.”

The PM of Norway didn’t know whether that bothered him or not, or if he should somehow be insulted on behalf of his country. “So….? Do we send them a letter or not?”

His Minister for Magic shrugged. “Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt. If you write to them and say that you’d very much like to maintain friendly relations and you’re inquiring about the interesting project that they seem to have going on, simply for clarity’s sake, then I suppose it couldn’t hurt. If I were in your shoes, and I’m very glad I’m not, I’d probably ask them if you could come and meet with them, alone, at their home. That would acknowledge something that both you and they already know to be true: that bodyguards aren’t going to do you any good in such a circumstance and that they’d not be invited anyway. That way, you’d have a chance to talk to them and they’d get a chance to read your mind and find out if what you’re saying is really true.”

The PM looked at him, panicked, and said, “What do you mean by ‘read my mind’?”

The Minister for Magic looked at him and said, “Well, exactly that, sir. There are mind-magics that allow us to read the minds of people who don’t take active protective measures and learn certain counter-disciplines. Since you are non-magical, you will be like an open book to them. They will pick your mind apart and know that you have nothing to hide, which is good.”

The PM could feel panic starting to rise in him and he looked at his Minister for Magic. “Do you read my mind?”

The Minister for Magic looked at him and smiled, while raising an open hand. “No, sir. I swore a magical oath to the constitution and to the people of Norway that I will faithfully serve this government and you, personally, so long as I am never asked to do something illegal. That means I can never read your mind, on pain of my own death.” “Seriously?”

“Yes sir. I would fall over dead if I tried.”

“Wow. That’s a hell of a way to enforce an oath.”

“Yes, well, it’s our magic enforcing the oath against us. It’s your way of knowing that I will never betray you or the country, so long as what you are doing is right and constitutional.”

Listening from the doorway, Gretchen Karlsen cringed as she heard the Minister for Magic reveal to the PM the nature of magical oaths. It was a secret she had hoped would stay just that, and that the PM would never learn of his ability to enforce magical obedience through them. Her bosses at the IWC would not be happy to learn of the Minister’s revelation. It was bad enough that the PM was getting a thorough education in the current political climate within the magical world and that he was being encouraged to make friends with the two arch-mages. Anything he might learn would very likely be shared with other heads-of-state and that didn’t serve the interests of the magical world at all. Worse was the likelihood that magicals who were currently serving the government would be co-opted into swearing binding oaths, which meant that they would have to be killed and replaced, and that would further delay the IWC’s efforts, along with certain governments, to blind the muggles and blunt their technological advancements. She could already see the report she was going to have to draft to her real bosses. They weren’t going to be happy.

****

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**Friday, July 23, 1993 – Azkaban Island**

It had taken several long weeks of planning, and three visits to Torshavn to secure a proper sailboat; one that wouldn’t attract attention and wouldn’t be remarked upon as it slipped out of the harbor on the evening tide. Finally, however, the time was right. Harley, Hermione, Isabelle, and Remus were all together on the deck of the boat as it glided through the failing light of the late afternoon. They would be reaching Azkaban Island right at or before shift-change for the guards, when the number of guards actually in the prison, human and otherwise, would be at its lowest. The window they were working with was exceedingly small, but they had practiced it again and again, so that they knew exactly what they were going to do and in what order.

There wasn’t a lot of time for the niceties, so Remus had procured a muggle hand-gun, a Beretta .92F, and silenced it. It would do what they needed, even if it wasn’t the cleanest way to deal with the grim task that was ahead of them.

As the boat glided through the waves, pushed on by wind of Harley’s making, Hermione did what she could to sleep. It would be her job to keep the portal open that they were going to use to penetrate the fortress and then leave it, once the foul business was done.

It wasn’t a duty that any of them would have willingly taken on, but things were developing in magical England that promised ugliness, if they weren’t confronted sooner rather than later. One was a movement, supported by still unknown forces, to re-institute blood-purity rules. Its opposite, if it could be called such a thing, was a nascent movement to unite all magicals, and to build a homeland even bigger than the one that Harley and Hermione had created around Hogwarts, which was the third largest contiguous area of its kind anywhere in the world, the second being in the western Rocky mountains in North America and the largest, in the Amazon basin, in Brazil.

Everyone on the boat had problems with both movements, though when pushed, would articulate cautious support for the latter as opposed to the former. Tribalism, they all understood, had ugly underpinnings and could lead to a great many problems. The difficulty was that they all chaffed against the Statute of Secrecy and longed for a time when they could do magic, anywhere. However, they all knew that this wasn’t the time to be dealing with those larger questions. They had a job to do and that was to eliminate what was left of the forces that fought (and probably caused) the last blood war. Not one of them was going to sleep better once the job was done, because there were still challenges that they hadn’t faced, like the remaining Horcruxes, and there was factionalism that ran exactly counter to what they were trying to do at Hogwarts.

The Golems would help to secure the area around Hogwarts, and make it virtually impossible for the British muggles to ever take back the area that they had, more or less, accidentally ceded to their magical counterparts. Some of the Golems were going to be close to 100 ft high and capable of destroying entire cities, if necessary. Hermione had made a very special, massive diamond for that particular Golem – one that was the size of a basketball – and had gotten a very special laser milling machine in Glasgow to inscribe hundreds of Rune-sequences on it. Combined with gold and blood, it would serve as the heart of the Golem forever.

**Three hours later**

“Love… wake up…” That was the first thing that Hermione heard as the boat rocked back and forth in the waves. She was groggy, since she really hadn’t gotten all of the sleep that she wanted, but coffee and half of a pepper-up potion would cure that smartly, she knew.

Looking into her wife’s eyes, Hermione could see the concern, but also excitement about what they were about to do.

Leaning in, Harley kissed her softly. “I love you, Hermione. I’m glad we’re doing this together.”

Hermione pushed herself into the kiss, before Harley backed off. “Love you too.”

“Time to get dressed. It’s going to be cold on the rock, and we can’t get distracted.”

Hermione nodded. She could see that Harley’s mom, Isabelle, was already dressed in black dragon-hide, as was Sirius and Remus. Sirius was staying onboard the ship to provide overwatch and act as back-up in case he was needed. Hermione, Harley, Isabelle, and Remus would be the invading force. Winky, Dobby, and a dozen other house-elves with whom they had bonded, were ready to go in case things went pear-shaped and they needed to be extracted immediately. She half-wished that Susan Bones was with them, but it just wasn’t possible. Suzi was the niece of the head of the DMLE and breaking into Azkaban, for the express purpose of killing prisoners, was not something that Suzi would be able to do and still look her Aunt in the face and answer her truthfully.

The jobs were divided in terms of ability. Hermione would make the hole that would get them in and out of the prison. Harley would provide creature-defense, by killing all of the Dementors that she encountered, Remus would do the dirty-work, while Isabelle guarded his back. They had, but their best estimates, 10 minutes to get the job done. Seven, if things didn’t go according to plan.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

An hour after waking, Hermione was ready to go. Caffeinated, dressed, and kissed thoroughly, she looked every bit the young warrior. Her black boots gave her three additional inches, bringing her to almost 5’6, which was a decent, respectable height for an adult woman. Harley needed only 2” boots to do the same thing, and she was kitted out the same way.

Isabelle anchored the boat and gave Sirius and the house-elves their instructions. The sun was almost down, which was the signal for shift-change. Harley took Remus’ hand while Hermione took Isabelle’s hand and the four of them rose up, into the sky and towards the island prison.

It was a five-minute flight to the upper edge of the southern wall of the prison. They were almost entirely invisible, having been made that way by Sirius’ quick wand-work, and felt confident that no one was going to see them.

When they got to where they needed to be, Harley gave Hermione the signal to start her hole. “Go for it, love.”

Remus, who was floating in mid-air, right where Hermione had parked him with her magic – a feat that Remus hadn’t thought possible until Hermione did it. “It’s like a sticking spell, Moony, just with a levitation component” – something that he also would not have thought possible, unless he saw it done.

It took Hermione less than a minute to open the portal all the way through the one-foot thick stone and anchor it, so that it couldn’t be taken down by anyone but her. With a push, Hermione sent Remus through the hole. He was followed by Isabelle and then Harley.

Once inside, Harley took the lead, since she was going to be doing creature-destruction duty and over-watch for her mother and Remus while they did the killing. None of the three of them wanted this. It was a necessity, but it was going to be hard on all of them, and each of them knew it.

The corridors were dark and dank and the sounds of the prisoners grated on her ears. Some were talking in their sleep while others were crying or screaming. Isabelle winced as she saw the look of sadness on Harley’s face, and wished for the umpteenth time that such a duty hadn’t become necessary.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The first warning that bad things were coming was the chill in the air that had come out of nowhere. Harley didn’t wait. She summoned Prongs, her Patronus, and told it to destroy any Dementor it found.

When they got to the cell holding Dumbledore, Remus turned to Harley and Isabelle. “Go. Now. You don’t need to see this.”

Harley teared up almost immediately, which set off Isabelle. They walked down to the other corridor and waited. It didn’t take long for Remus to appear. He was shaking visibly and Isabelle could see the tears in his eyes. She almost fell into his arms and said, “I’m sorry.” He hugged her and the two of them stood for a moment, just trying to reassure the other.

She looked at him before they parted and said, “Do what you have to, and then let’s get the fuck out of here. We have about three minutes.” Remus nodded and moved down one of the other hallways. Twice he stopped, pointed his pistol into the cell, watched for a moment, and then moved on. At the third and final cell, he found Bellatrix Lestrange. It took the witch a moment to recognize him, before she saw the pistol in his hand.

In an act of understanding that Remus knew he’d carry with him for the rest of his days, Bellatrix simply nodded and knealed down, facing the wall. Remus didn’t waste time; shooting her once behind the left ear, which killed her instantly.

Somehow, a mercy-killing seemed alright to him. He was confident he would have asked for the same, if their roles were reversed.

“Let’s go!” Harley’s voice rang out. “We’re out of time!”

That snapped Remus out of his reverie and made him bolt back towards the hole that Hermione was maintaining, with Isabelle and Harley right on his heels.

Harley’s last act was to summon Fiend-Fyre and send it into the prison. It would destroy every Dementor that it found, and would cover their tracks nicely. Grabbing Remus’ hand, Harley threw herself out into mid-air and made for the boat as quickly as she could. Hermione was right behind her, with Isabelle in tow; her “Hermione hole” closed, so that there was no evidence of their presence, except for the Fiend-fyre, which the Prison Warden was going to have the devil’s own time explaining.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The Fiend-Fyre ate its way through the prison, consuming every Dementor it encountered, and destroying the few guards who were unlucky enough to be in its way as it roared through. Where it encountered resistance, it left behind gray ash. Where it found an opening, it sneaked through like an octopus. When it found magic, it grew, and where it found none, it tapered off until, finally, it petered out and died.

By the time that the last lick of flame died, the four invaders were safely back on the boat that had brought them, and were on their way back to Torshavn, even if their breakfasts were floating in the waters behind them, having been “reviewed” by each.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**6:35 pm, DMLE / London.**

It didn’t take long for alarms to start ringing in the DMLE in London, which brought Amelia Bones out of one more of an endless series of budget and planning meetings. “What the fuck is going on!” she yelled, as she marched down the hallway to the ready-room for the on stand-by Specialized Weapons, Auror assault team (S.W.A.A.T).

“Don’t know yet, Director!”

“Then get your shit together and get me some answers!” She yelled back, giving the head Auror a shove towards his office.

Rufus Scrimgeour wasn’t used to being yelled at by a senior officer, but he sucked it up and went off to get his director the answers she wanted, since he didn’t have much choice in the matter. As the answers started to come in, it was clear that the target was Azkaban, and that whatever had happened, had been executed by powerful individuals and had been precisely timed to take advantage Amelia Bones was at her desk, looking at deployment strengths, contingency plans, etc. when Rufus Scrimgeour came in. Amelia looked up at him and saw the look in his eyes that told her that some bad shit had just gone down.

“Spill” she said abruptly.

“It’s not good, Director. Someone, or several someones, broke into Azkaban just at shift-change, and executed more than a dozen highest-value targets, and then unleashed Fiend-Fyre to cover the assault. A half-dozen Dverger are missing and presumed dead, and worse, every Dementor has been destroyed.”

“Which prisoners?” she said icily.

“Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband Rodolpho, Barty Crouch Jr., … every one of them, Director. And then… Albus, Director. Seems whoever did this wanted him dead too. He was killed with a piercing hex, right between the eyes. Three times.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck and double-fuck. Anyone else?”

“No, Director.”

“Is there any idea of how they got into the prison?”

“No, Director. The outside of the building has been checked and re-checked. There are no visible signs of entry.”

“Fuck!” She swore to herself once again. No visible sign of entry meant that the job was done by someone who had the ability to make holes in things that couldn’t be seen… and there were only two people in Europe who could do such a thing, and both of them were students at Hogwarts. _Fuck_

“Well, Rufus, that means we know who did this, since there are only two people who have the ability to do such a thing.”

He looked at her and knew immediately what she was saying. “Good luck trying to prove it, Director.”

“Oh, I’m never going to be able to prove it, Rufus. In fact, we’d be laughed out of court if we even tried to get a warrant, but that doesn’t mean we don’t know, by logic, who it was who did this. The only question is whether they had help or not.”

“Not going to matter, Director. If you can't get the first warrant, you’re not getting the other.”

Amelia practically snarled. She knew that Rufus was exactly right and that there was no way that they would voluntarily give up anyone who had helped them. “Fuck!” she swore again. Her magic was almost palpable, she was so angry. She hated being thwarted and she hated having her authority compromised or undermined.

Rufus said, not unsympathetically, “You might want to think about calming down. Throwing a fit isn’t going to help the situation and it’s not going to get you a warrant.”

“I should have taken up drinking” she said, trying but not quite completely failing to smile.

“Yea.. me too.” Rufus said, trying not to like his boss just that little bit more. “You need me for anything else?”

She shook her head. “No. There’s nothing to be done. Tell the S.W.A.A.T team to stand down and tell the Dverger that I’m going to need to talk to them about our agreement with them about the prison.”

“Will do. You might also want to think about talking to the PM about the prison. He needs to know that our most high-value prisoners are no longer a problem.”

“I don’t think so. I’m not going to go groveling to some Muggle with that news. The Death Eaters were our problem, as was Albus.”

“They maintain a strict navel stand-off from the island at our request, Amelia. They might as well know that it’s no longer quite as necessary.”

“No. I want that island as a back-stop, Rufus. I’m not giving up its exact location if I don’t have to.”

“Your call.” He said, grudgingly.

“Yup, and that’s what I’m sticking with until I know otherwise. Now go. Tell the teams to stand down and let the Dverger know.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He said, saluting and then turning to leave her office.

She returned the salute and then turned back to documents that had occupied her attention before the kerfuffle. It was going to be a long evening.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

It didn’t take long, less than two days, for the news of the attack on Azkaban to make the paper, even though the details were sketchy, but the news was drowned out by the front-page, top-of-the-fold coverage of the massive new, all-magical shopping area in Hogsmeade that was three times the size of the previous shopping area and included shops from all over Europe and as far away as Moscow. The Azkaban news even took back-seat to the news regarding the record-breaking results from Hogwarts, which had been intentionally delayed by the IWC, in a fit of pique. The upshot being that the general public had no idea that Albus Dumbledore was dead, along with the twelve worst Death Eaters who were being held in Azkaban.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**Saturday, July 31, 1993 - Monetjorna Lake, Norway**

**“Happy birthday to you;  
Happy birthday to you!  
Happy birthday, dearest Harley,  
Happy birthday to you!”**

Sirius’, Miranda’s Jake’s, and Hermione’s voices rang out strong in the house, just after noon, to a quite astonished, and teary-eyed, Harley Janel Potter-Ross. Isabelle, knowing that discretion was the better part of valor, chose not to sing, since more than one person had wondered if a bird was dying, every time she opened her mouth.

“Happy birthday, love!” Hermione said, throwing herself into her wife’s arms and kissing her soundly.

For decency’s sake, the two broke the kiss a moment later, but it was clear to both of them how the other wanted to ‘celebrate’ Harley’s birthday. Their knickers were wet and both girls were squirming because of the toys that they were surreptitiously wearing.

Miranda thought that her daughter’s movements were suspect, but she chose not to say anything, since that would most certainly be the pot calling the kettle black. Her own toys were driving her slightly wild, since they were now both magical, courtesy of Isabelle.

Hermione was almost 14 and Miranda remembered her the time around her 14th birthday. 1975 was a hotbed for sexual activity, since the STD numbers were so low. Sex was something that was seen as a normal activity, and neither forbidden nor dangerous. Not like 1993, where AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases had become known dangers and mitigated against teen sexual activity. She didn’t worry about those things for Hermione, of course. She was in a monogamous, same-sex relationship where pregnancy wasn’t a threat and STDs were out of the question.

She had no idea, of course, that Hermione and Harley had both experienced ‘sexual penetration’ already, courtesy of Draco Malfoy, and had enjoyed every moment of it – and were most definitely looking forward to repeating the experience, if possible. Hermione was very closed-mouthed about her physical relationship with Harley, and while she understood the reasons why that was so, she was still very curious about what Hermione had experienced, if only to reassure herself that she had raised her daughter ‘properly’.

“C’mon, love. Let’s have some pizza & butterbeer, and then we can do prezzies!” Hermione said, pulling her wife towards the living-room. Harley was taken aback when she saw that not only were her parents present, along with Remus, Sirius, Isabelle, Filius Flitwick, ‘Poppy’ Pomfrey, but Rubeus Hagrid, who was one of their most favorite teachers, and all three of the Malfoys. Hermione and Harley whooped! And then ran over to the three of them; curtsied quickly to lord and lady Malfoy, and then hugged Draco with abandon.

Their enthusiasm caused riotous laughter in the whole group and no little amount of snickering in Lucius and Narcissa and shy embarrassment on Draco’s part. It didn’t keep him though from returning the hugs properly. Both girls had grown on him so that he felt not just strong affection for them, but deep and abiding gratitude.

“Ladies Ross?” Lucius said, catching the girls’ attention and making them break off their hug with Draco, in order to pay proper and lady-like attention to him, “We appreciate the invitation to your summer home.”

Harley, trying not to prance and preen too much in front of the Malfoys, said softly, “Lord and Lady Malfoy, Scion Malfoy… I appreciate your presence today very much. I had not expected to see the three of you on my birthday, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Draco couldn’t help but break into kind of a goofy smile. His birthday was September 21st – two days after Hermione’s, and he had gotten quite the gift from the Ladies Ross for his 13th birthday, so he hoped that the gift he had arranged for Harley would live up to the standard she had already set.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

It was a good thing, Hermione thought, that she was a witch and burned calories at a prodigious rate, because five extra-large pieces of meat-lovers’, double-cheese pizza had to be almost off the scales. However, they had been five fabulous pieces of pizza and she couldn’t really help herself, since they almost never got the ‘good stuff’ at Hogwarts and it had been a long while since she had gotten to indulge. Harley, for her part, had destroyed three-quarters of a large mushroom, bacon, and black-olive pizza by herself… but she also burned calories at a stupidly high rate, given the fact that she was the most powerful magic user on the planet, and struggled not to lose weight just by breathing.

Once they had all gotten past the food-coma stage of the party, they had moved on to Harley’s birthday presents… which amounted to a sizable number on the coffee table in front of the birthday girl. Sirius picked up a package and handed it to Harley. “First, I want you to know that I love you. You are my god-daughter, the daughter of my heart, and… you are my heir. This is… well, it’s one way of letting everyone know that.”

Harley got up, flung herself across the room to where Sirius was sitting, and into his arms. “I love you too, Da.” She said to him, more quietly than anyone could hear. They could all see his arms wrap around her though and knew that whatever she had just said was heartfelt and meaningful to him.

When she returned to her seat next to Hermione, she took the carefully-wrapped package into her lap and began unwrapping it. Like Hermione, who always preserved the paper as best she could, Harley used her magic to unto the tape and ease the paper back and off the package. When she saw what was underneath, she squealed. It was an ornate, black box with the gilded outline of a G in the middle, which made it a Gringotts gift box. That meant that whatever was inside was either made by Gringotts Dverger or was held in trust by them in one of the vaults they guarded.

It took some moments to get the boxes’ lid undone, but once she had it off, she could see what the box held – and she immediately started crying. Putting the box done, she raced across the room once again and started hugging Sirius with all her strength. Hermione looked at what the lid had revealed and whistled under her breath. It was the Black Family Grimoire. Only someone of the blood, or married to the blood could touch it, which meant that she couldn’t, until she and Harley said formal vows and were bound by magic and by law. Right now they had only the former and not the latter, which was weird, because someone the latter mattered. No one understood why that was, but it was and there was nothing that anyone could do about it.

Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco had expected Harley to become the Heiress of the House of Black ever since Draco had come home and told them that Harley had told him that if she had anything to do with it, her first and second-born would be by him and that those children would head the House of Malfoy and the House of Black. Hermione’s first child would, however they could manage it, be the Potter heir, and would continue the Potter line, while Harley’s first child would be the Ross heir, if she was a girl. If not, a boy would continue the Black line and Harley’s second child, who would also be with Draco, would continue the Malfoy line. Hermione’s second child, if a girl, would continue the Ross line.

Draco was having a hard time processing what the promise of future fatherhood meant, but he was sure that he wanted to be as good a father as his father was becoming. For their parts, the promise of grandchildren by the most powerful witch on the planet was a gift beyond measure. To have such genes in the Malfoy line was something that most other patriarchs would sell their wives, mothers, sisters, and their own souls into perpetual bondage to obtain.

The hardest thing that Draco had had to do was to confess to his parents that he had been intimate with Daphne as well as Harley and Hermione, and that the three of them knew about the others. That Draco very much wanted and intended to take Daphne to wife, and the two of them intended to take Tracey as their consort was also an open secret with Lucius and Narcissa.

What was not known was the separate relationships that Harley and Hermione had with Fay Dunbar, Cho “Li Qui” Chang, and Lavender Brown. Not that Fay, Li Qui, and Lavender didn’t know about each other, because they did, but no one else knew about their relationships with the Harley and Hermione – and the two arch-mages wanted it kept that way, for the three girls’ sake as well as their own… and what Harley wanted, Harley usually got, because the cost of not doing what she wanted, where Hermione was concerned, was too high to consider.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

The final gift of the afternoon was given by Lucius, and he presented it carefully. “Lady Ross, I am not used to presenting gifts to young women… because as a general rule, my beautiful wife would skin me.”

“You’ve got that right, husband of mine” Narcissa said, next to him, which drew hearty laughs from all around the room.

“Having said that, I wanted to give you this. I suspect that this will put an end to a problem that you’ve had for these last several years.”

Harley looked at him with a cocked eye, but smiled nonetheless, since it was absolutely necessary, as well as proper, to acknowledge what he felt was a generous act.

“Thank you, Lord Malfoy. You are known for your generosity and I am sure that whatever it is, I will love it.”

“I think, Lady Ross, that it will at least be appreciated.”

“Then let us open your gift, my Lord Malfoy, and see what your kind heart has brought us.”

Harley and Hermione worked on the packaging between them and soon discovered that it too was a Gringotts box. This caused several raised eyebrows around the circle in the living-room. Inside the box were two smaller boxes and a card, inside a very fine linen envelope. Hermione lifted it up and opened it with her magic. She willed it to expand, so that everyone could read it. **_31 July 1993_**

**_The esteemed Lady Janel Ross-Potter:_ **

**_On behalf of the Dverger Horde, I permanently gift you this gem and, on behalf of the Horde, forever forswear any claim to it. Within it are the remaining pieces of soul of your sworn enemy, Tom Marvolo Riddle. To destroy this gem, you must banish it into the Sun or use the killing curse. That will send your enemy to the hell that he most richly deserves._ **

**_May your enemies cower in their own blood and may your gold flow without end._ **

**_Ragnock, son of Marlor_ **

Harley and Hermione threw themselves into Lucius Malfoy’s arms and hugged him without reserve, which made Narcissa laugh and Draco shake his head in bemusement. “I think you’ve got two fans there, Lord Malfoy” Sirius said from across the circle.

“Can you tell us, Lord Malfoy, just how you came to have this interesting gem?”

After Lucius gently separated himself from the two girls, and then went back to their own seats, to snuggle together, Narcissa said to the group, “My Lord has a magical gift for finding people, and his former … ‘patron’… no longer had the ability to hide himself, as he used to do. I think my Lord would tell you that once he knew what to look for, it was a relatively simple matter of creating the right gem and then going and finding the bits of his former patron that were trying to hide. As you can tell, my Lord was successful. All the remaining bits of the … what did you call him Lady Ross?”

“Dork Lard” Harley said, giggling.

“Ah yes. The Dork Lard couldn’t hide anymore and my Lord was able to find them and trap those pieces in the gem that he had made.”

“And all I have to do is banish it into the Sun?”

“Can you do that?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “My gracious lady Malfoy, my wife can do anything she puts her mind to doing. If she can build a mountain, or catch a falling, 100 meter long meteor using her magic, she can quite easily banish the dork lard into the Sun. Draco, would you like to help?”

Draco’s eyes lit up at the thought of helping the girls do magic, and his parents practically had to hold him back from jumping up and down with enthusiasm.

Hermione saw the smile on his face and said impishly, “I take that as a yes?”

All Draco could do was bob his head, for fear that his voice might crack and make him squeak like a girl.

So absorbed in their own back-and-forth were Draco and Hermione that they didn’t see Harley open the smaller box and extract its contents. Sirius, Isabelle, Remus, Lucius, and Narcissa did however, and what they saw unnerved them.

****

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**Department V, Ministry for Magic, London, UK, Monday, Aug. 2, 1993**

Saul Croaker looked around his office. The twelve people most responsible for disrupting/destroying the Muggle efforts to pierce the veil that protected magical society stood in front of him. Each one was an accomplished witch or wizard, and had earned his or her 00 number by hard kills in the field. Each was magically capable at the hit-wizard level or beyond and was unafraid of doing what was necessary to protect magical Britain.

“I didn’t call you all back for social hour, if you’re wondering.” He looked around and saw the confused looks on the faces of each of his operatives. “No. I called you back because we have a problem.” He paused for a moment to try to convey to his people in the fewest number of words possible the difficulties that he saw. “The non-magical community has started to integrate their governmental efforts in ways that we hadn’t realized until recently. I have information from our brothers and sisters in the colonies that the non-magical government of the United States is tracking or trying to track, magical activities and catalog magical areas. This has got to be stopped, or at least crippled, until we have an answer to it.

For that reason, I am sending half of you to the States, to work with our brothers and sisters over there, to cripple the non-magical government and to kill as many turncoats as is necessary, replacing them as we have here, with people loyal to magic and to our way of life. The other half I am sending to the continent, to work with our brothers and sisters there. We will start with the Norwegians, Danes, and Germans and then expand that effort as other Ministries for Magic help in the cause. You all have your briefing folders. Questions?”

“Anyone tasked with dealing with the Hogwarts problem?” a tall but non-descript man asked.

The head Unspeakable looked at him and said, “No. And you ordered never to try. The two arch-mages are to be left alone. Is that clearly understood?”

The man was clearly petulant, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good, because what they would leave of you doesn’t bear considering.” Croaker said.

Another of the 00’s covered her mouth and made a sound that sounded very much like “bullshit”. Saul Croaker turned and faced her. “Really?” he asked, with an arched eyebrow. “You want to face them? Either of them? I can arrange that…. And I can arrange your funeral at the same time.” He looked around, annoyed. “Any takers?”

Not a single one. No one was that dumb, apparently, which was good. He didn’t need to lose people for no purpose and it was nice to see that his people had better judgement than that.

“Are they really that powerful, boss?”

He spun on his heel and looked at the questioner. “You tell me,” he said, pushing a finger into the girl’s chest. “Can you build a mountain? Can you pull meteors out of the sky and put them down exactly where you want them? Meteors the size of buildings? Can you come and go through wards as if they’re not there? Can you summon a giant black dragon from a thousand miles away and make it obey you?”

The young agent looked at him, angry that he should single her out. “No.”

“Right then.” He said, backing up a bit and looking at the whole group. “I’m not kidding about this. If you happen to encounter one or both of the Arch-mages, you are ordered to leave them alone and leave the scene. These two can and will kill you if they feel that it’s necessary. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir” the group said.

“Good. Your specific orders are in your assignment jackets. Read them thoroughly. Sign the documents and then get at it. I expect every one of you gone into the field by 5pm tonight. Clear?”

“Yes, sir” they all said.

“Good. Now go. I will expect reports from all of you at the end of the week, and then weekly thereafter.”

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Once the 00 agents were gone, Saul Croaker leaned back against his desk. It had been a very long day and it wasn’t over yet. It was exhausting to have to be working, simultaneously, against two different enemies. It wasn’t just Tom Riddle anymore. Now it was the muggles and their intrusive technologies as well as the left-over blood purists in their society, on top of the existence of two arch-mages that fell on his shoulders. And… as if all of that wasn’t enough, their main prison – Azkaban - had been destroyed by forces unknown.

All of the death-eaters were dead, along with Albus Dumbledore, all of the Dementors, and more than a half-dozen Dverger guards. Someone, and he didn’t know who, had broken into the prison, killed the most dangerous prisoners, and then loosed Fiendfyre within the prison walls, to cover his/her/their tracks. It was a devastating, incredibly effective attack that had to have taken weeks or months to plan. His own troops could not have done it better; he knew. The question was who wanted both the death-eaters as well as the supposed ‘leader of the light’ dead? Who would benefit from that?

Slumping down in his chair, Saul Croaker thought about the situation he and his department was in: Undeclared war on three(?) fronts, a major manpower shortage, because not just anyone could be an Unspeakable, financial constraints on his department that were unavoidable, given that he really didn’t want to have to explain his ultra-secret budget to anyone, and the realities of magical England, where might made right more often than not.

On the last point, he was genuinely hampered by the fact that British magicals weren’t as afraid of the Unspeakables anymore, because their powers – the secret magics that all Unspeakables were taught – just weren’t as frightening or mysterious anymore. Not when Hogwarts students were being taught to do the same things, starting in their first year. Worse, the existence of two bonded Arch-mages was nothing short of terrifying. One was bad enough, as he had found out early on, when he first dealt with Dumbledore. Two bonded mages were, and it was a good word for it, fürchterlich, and their gestalt was nothing short of breathtaking.

And it wasn’t as though he could just walk into Hogwarts and try to curtail the two girls’ behavior or their implicit threat to British magical society by impressing them or somehow making them cower by showing off his magical prowess. The truth was that he might make it as far as the front door before he was killed. The school had become a death-trap for anyone seeking to hurt the Ladies Ross. From the Headmaster on down to the first-year students… they were all prepared, his one informant had said, to kill anyone who presented a threat. It was an ugly situation.

****

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**MCUSA HQ / New York City – 97th & 49th Streets, Wednesday, August 4th, 1994**

“… And it is not in our interest to antagonize our own government! Whether we like it or not, the no-mag’s outnumber us by better than sixteen to one and their technology is going to find us one day, and we can’t be making enemies of those we are eventually going to have to acknowledge as neighbors!”

“MADAME CHAIRWOMAN!” the speaker from NYC cried out.

“For what purpose does the gentlelady from New York City rise?”

“Madame Chairwoman, I rise in protest of the stupidity and short-sightedness of the gentleman from West Virginia!”

The Chairwoman, a native of South Africa and descended from the Sotho people, rolled her eyes and wondered, not for the first time, whether she should ever have taken the position of chairwoman. It was a thankless job at the best of times. It was clear that Robert’s Rules of Order had yet to find solid footing in the Congress of the United (magical) States of America.

“Representative Lightfoot, that is not a reasonable basis on which to rise, even if the sentiment may be appreciated.” The representative looked at the chairwoman with less than affection in her eyes, but sat back down anyway. “Do I hear any other reasons to rise?”

“I rise, Madame Chairwoman” an elderly gentleman said from the back. He was dressed in the traditional dress of a chief of the Onondaga.

“Chief Running Bear, for what purpose do you rise?”

“Madame Chairwoman, I rise to speak about the separate sovereignty of our people, and how this body’s actions may threaten that.”

“The chair finds that to be a valid reason to rise. You may speak.”

“Thank you, Madame Chairwoman. Brothers and sisters, I rise today to speak about the situation in which we find ourselves: Threatened by the pale-faces from Washington once again. They have betrayed the Peoples of my nation again and again and again, and caused the deaths of millions of my ancestors. NOW is the time, my brothers and sisters, to push them back! Or else they will ever encroach our way of life, and that of my people, until we have nothing left! They will kill that which they don’t understand. They will enslave what they can and exploit everything that can’t resist. They are dangerous! For the sake of all of our people, we must push back! We must cripple them at every turn. We must blind them wherever possible. We must find new ways to hide! I have heard, in this very body, that there is a girl in England, a powerful girl, who builds mountains because she can. She has built a homeland for her people, such as they had never seen before! We must do the same here! We must build or take a homeland, such that the palefaces can never steal from us again!”

Looking around, the elderly man saw the support of many of his fellows. He saw it in their eyes and in their magic. His words had found a home in them and they were considering all that he had said, because of the truth of it.

An ethnic Taiwanese woman rose, across from where the Onondaga chief sat. “Madame Chairwoman, I rise.”

“For what do you rise, Representative Gân?”

Daiyu Gân smiled and then said, “Madame Chairwoman, I rise in support of my friend, my mentor, Chief Running Bear.”

“The chair will entertain your statement, Representative Gân. Three minutes.”

“I thank the Chairwoman. Brothers, sisters, I rise in support of my friend, my mentor, Chief Running Bear. He has the right of it. The no-mags in Washington are not now and have never been our friends. Their antecedents murdered more than ten million native peoples as they pushed west. They murdered Cubans, overthrew legitimate governments around the world, and interned Japanese during World War Two – our fight against Grindelwald. They butchered more than a million mainland Chinese during the VietNam War, and now they are looking for us. Not directly, mind you. Not yet, but that day will come. It is long past time to cripple their systems, blind them to our existence, and, at the same time, carve out a homeland for our people, that can never be taken away from us. The Chief is right, too, to point to the two Arch Mages in England and wonder if they would help us, or if we can just go by their example. For myself… I am scared. I have seen the intel reports that say that the no-mags are increasingly able to watch our every move when we venture amongst them, and they can watch from their satellites and see when one of us is doing large magics. It is past time to put an end to those technologies as well, if we are able. I will support whatever efforts get us closer to being free of the no-mags’ surveillance and awareness. Thank you.”

“Are there any others who rise?”

There were. More than a dozen, and they all pointed to massive wrongs perpetrated by the no-mag government of the U.S. Some stories were intensely personal. Others were more general, but still pointed. Finally, a tiny man, maybe no more than 5’2”, stood. “Madame Chairwoman, I rise.”

“For what reason does the Gentleman rise?”

“I rise to speak to the danger of bigotry, Madame Chairwoman.”

The Chairwoman looked at the old man. He was a wizard of more than 150 years, though he looked like a no-mag of half that age. “The Chair recognizes Representative O’Malley for three minutes.” “Thank you, Madame Chairwoman. I hope that my story won’t take that long. Brothers, sisters, many of you know me. I was born in County Cork, Ireland, in 1841. Like many, my family was Catholic and yes, we farmed potatoes, among other things. A good family. When I was born, my mother, God bless her, recognized that I was a wizard, as she was a squib. She knew that her husband would never accept me in the family, but she couldn’t lie to him either, so she told him what I was, and that her family – wizards and witches all, would raise me, if he would give his blessing. It… well, the choice broke him. I was the only boy to survive birth. My sisters were young, but healthy, but my older brothers had died at or just soon after birth. No one knows why. My father had so wanted a son to carry his name… but his faith wasn’t strong enough to have a wizard in the family. So… my mother brought me to her family, where I was raised. When the time came, I went to Hogwarts, because that’s where strong wizards and witches went.

When the Easter Rebellion came, I could no longer sit by and tolerate what the British did to those I called family, so I renounced my ‘citizenship’, gave the Queen the bird, and came to the States. But… then it was “Irish need not apply” all throughout the states. Some places worse than others. I couldn’t believe it, and yet there it was, right in front of my face. The only saving grace was that I am a wizard and we, thankfully, have been much less affected by the racist nonsense that plagued the no-mags. I was luckier than many of my compatriots. I found at home, teaching, at the New Brunswick School of Magic, and was insulated for many happy years from the problems of the wider world.

But now we are on the cusp of being truly threatened by the no-mags, and it promises to be far, far worse than any no-mag’s sign saying, “Irish need not apply” or the bigotry that said that Roman Catholic Irish were not welcome in places like Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. The no-mags are dangerous. Far, far more dangerous than the elitist bigots of north London, who wanted to deny my parents and my mothers’ family, and all who were like them, the right to Independence and self-determination. And why? I’ll tell you why. They’re dangerous because they want instant solutions to their problems. And worse, just like the supposed ‘dark lord’ in the British Isles who wanted to take over, the no-mags here want to rule the planet and be masters of all, even while they call themselves ‘believers in representative government’. Their technologies are becoming more and more dangerous, more threatening every day. When they find us, and they surely will if we don’t do anything to stop them, they will try to destroy us… because people hate and fear anything they can’t control or don’t understand. So… now is the time to act. If not for our sakes', for the sakes' of our children and grandchildren, who will have to live with a very different, very dangerous world, if we don’t find a way to wall ourselves off from the no-mags.”

He sat down and, for a very long moment, there wasn’t a single whisper in the entire room. It was obvious to the Chairwoman that his words were being taken to heart and that there would be action on a motion to begin the process to do… something. She wasn’t sure what, but she knew that she had just seen something historical; something that would be written about in history books in the centuries to come, provided that they all survived the moment and did the right thing.

****

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**Perpetua Alley, off Diagon Alley, London – Friday, August 6th, just after 4:30**

Delores Jane Umbridge slipped among the people who were shopping in the Alley, before heading home for the evening meal. She did her best not to touch anyone, tutting to herself every time she had to brush by someone. Fussy and priggish by nature, the Senior Undersecretary looked about. There were second-hand stores everywhere, selling all manner of magic and devices, some of questionable origin and all of questionable quality.

As she walked, she stood out like a sore thumb, from her pink parasol down to her fastidious pink leather ankle-high boots. Her very slowly greying hair bobbed in back, like a floppy French bread-roll hanging from the middle of her head and, combined with her undulating fat ass, gave her the overall appearance of a duck waddling down the alley. Heads turned as she passed, since very few people who were so obviously out of place passed through this section of the Alley at the best of times. The shops were too low-brow for the hoity-toity in society and there were too many places where a life might be cut short by a thieves’ knife or an illegal wand or the spray of poison at close range.

There were eyes everywhere, even if she didn’t know it. But she did, and some of the pairs of eyes worked for her, for her cause. Others… not so much. Those were the ones she feared. She wasn’t the Dark Lord, who could toss around the killing curse or the Cruciatus like it was nothing in order to get people to obey her will. She had to convince them, which was infinitely harder and took more time… and more money. And it for that reason that she was in this particular part of the Alley: She had something to sell. Something precious and rare, that she hoped the Ministry wouldn’t miss.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

At the other end of the Alley, Gringotts was preparing to close for the evening. The guards, in fact, had started the process of shutting the massive doors which stood beneath the famous sign which read: 

**_“Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.”_ **

**-Harry Potter & the Philosopher’s Stone, Pg. 41**

The guards almost didn’t see the seven girls and women who appeared out of nowhere and were startled enough to raise their halberds. That didn’t last long, as the woman in front snarled at them in a language that five of the six in the group neither knew nor recognized. The doors were immediately thrown open again and the group proceeded into the bank.

“What did you say, mom?” Harley asked as they moved into the dark-ish recesses of the bank.

Isabelle smiled. “Oh… well, I told them that if they valued their worthless lives, that they would open up for the First of the Twenty-Eight. I don’t know if they recognized you, but it got the message across.”

Harley laughed. “I love you, Mom. I’ve got to learn the language if I’m going to apprentice to the Horde, like you did.”

“Don’t get your heart too set on it, daughter of mine. They chose whom they will, for reasons that are only theirs, and they never explain themselves.”

“Would they take me if I threatened to apprentice with the Dwarves instead?”

Isabelle turned and looked at her daughter, her face a mask of both worry and anger. “You will never do that. Do you understand me? Never. That would be a betrayal of our family’s relationship with the Horde from which we would never recover. I’d rather roast in Hell than see you do something so fucking stupid. Do you get me?”

Harley all but froze in her tracks. She had never seen her mother so angry or worried, and she instantly regretted saying something so stupid and flippant. It made her feel every bit the little girl that she had once been and not even Hermione’s hand in hers could allay the regret that she felt in spouting off to her mother.

Harley nodded, feeling more than slightly ashamed. She had never been so strongly reprimanded by her mother before and it stung a great deal. More so because Hermione saw the whole thing and saw the sadness in Harley’s eyes.

Isabelle turned to Hermione, recognizing perhaps that she had just done harm to their relationship. “I’m sorry, Hermione. That must have sounded pretty harsh.” Hermione glared at her and Isabelle could both see and feel the magic that was moving in Hermione’s soul. It portended nothing but ill for her. Not turning her gaze from Hermione, Isabelle said, “Harley, love, I think your wife wants to burn me down.”

“Well, yea… no kidding. The last people who pissed her off, she cut up, bit by bit, until they told her what she wanted to know.”

The thought of that made Isabelle more than slightly nauseous, since she knew that there was nothing that could stop Hermione from doing that to someone. “I don’t want to know.”

Harley stepped between her mother and Hermione, so that her wife would be less motivated to do something mean or even violent. “No mom, you really don’t. But trust me when I tell you that she’s more than capable, and anyone threatening me…” She left the rest of the thought unsaid.

Susan Bones, who was watching the interaction, wondered about the dynamic that was at play, since it had happened between her and her aunt, Amelia Bones, a couple of times. Isabelle Ross had always seemed like a smart, thoughtful, cautious woman… but seeing her confronting Harley and Hermione together made her realize that pretty much everyone was capable of stupid from time to time and that magical power didn’t equal good judgement, like she had thought it did.

Narcissa Malfoy, who was at the back of the group, also watched with interest. She hadn’t caught what had been said between mother and daughter, but she was close enough to feel the magic that was cascading out of Hermione. It was like standing under a blazing sun at full tilt, on the very hottest day imaginable. How the hell did Dumbledore ever think that he could challenge these two? What on Earth had been wrong with him to be blind to their power? And how did the Dork Lard ever imagine a victory against them? And if Harley can build a mountain, what can Hermione do? Or what *can’t* she do? Narcissa wondered, and not for the first time.

As Narcissa’s eyes swept over them, she saw the nubile curves of their bottoms, which were outlined by the g-string, silk panties that they were wearing under their black, silk stirrup pants. And what had it been like to bed them? What did Draco experience? If making love with Lucius was a joyous torrent of pleasure, because of his magical power, what must have it been like to experience the same with the girls? How did Draco remain awake? Or sane, for that matter? The thoughts made her more than slightly jealous. Narcissa liked a woman’s touch too, when she had the chance…

Narcissa’s off-color musings were interrupted by the arrival of the bank’s vice-manager, the Dverger she knew as Goldbender.

The guards and the Bank’s vice-manager ushered them into an opulent room that was hidden at the end of a long hallway, where Dverger tea and British pastries were waiting. The two made an odd combination, since very few had the fortitude necessary to drink the absurdly strong, but sweet tea. Of the seven, only Harley, Hermione, Isabelle, and Narcissa were able to do so. The others demurred, which earned them eye-rolls from both Harley and Hermione.

Twenty minutes passed before the heavy oak door to the room opened again and the King of the Dverger walked in. Isabelle saw him and immediately fell to one knee. “Father” she said, in Ge’Rent, the language of the people. Hermione, Harley, and the rest followed suit immediately.

Ragnok looked around and smiled a toothy smile. “Please… rise.”

Isabelle was the first to do so. “Father, I didn’t expect to see you.”

If anyone was surprised that Isabelle addressed the king of the Dverger as “father”, they didn’t show it.

“I was free and family is always welcome. Now, what can I do for the House of Ross?”

Harley stepped forward, reached down into one of her hidden pockets, and drew out a small box, which she set on the table. With a wave of her hand, the box grew and grew, until it was a foot high, a foot wide, and almost twenty inches long.

Hermione waved a finger at it and the cover drifted off and set itself down on the table. “My Lord Ragnok, we found what the house-elves call the “Come and Go” room at Hogwarts about… well, it was towards the beginning of our first year. Anyway, after we cleaned out the room and organized everything, we were left with several piles. One of those piles were these…” One at a time, wands started drifting out of the box and settling down on the table, in some order that the rest of the group saw, but didn’t understand. Ragnok, however, did understand. It was part of Dverger magic that he could tell that the wands before him were old… very, very old in some cases.

“Are these, daughter, what I think they are?”

Hermione stepped forward and said, “My Lord, if I may, the answer is yes. We think, though we are not sure, that at least some of these are progenitor’s wands. We brought them because we found them and we want acknowledgement of our rights, under the Wand Act of 1732.”

Ragnok’s eyes grew wide and he took in a deep breath, which was all that Isabelle needed to see to believe what her daughter and daughter-in-law had told her before they began the day’s adventure… that these wands were the key to controlling British magical society and that through them, they would gain control of most of the magical families, either extinct or marginal, and by so doing, regain all of the seats in the Wizengamot that had been lost over the centuries; bringing them all under the banner of the House of Dagworth-Ross, and by extension, bringing the Wizengamot under the control of one house.... something that hadn't been done since the days of Godric Gryffindor. ****

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	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the [Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120: 1–1205](https://www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/text/17/512), this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

****

**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 13  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
[the_scribbler (at) shadowgard (d*t) com](mailto:the_scribbler@shadowgard.com)**

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**From Chapter 12….**

Ragnok looked around and smiled a toothy smile. “Please… rise.”

Isabelle was the first to do so. “Father, I didn’t expect to see you.”

If anyone was surprised that Isabelle addressed the king of the Dverger as “father”, they didn’t show it.

“I was free and family is always welcome. Now, what can I do for the House of Ross?"

Harley stepped forward, reached down into one of her hidden pockets, and drew out a small box, which she set on the table. With a wave of her hand, the box grew and grew, until it was a foot high, a foot wide, and almost twenty inches long. Hermione waved a finger at it and the cover drifted off and set itself down on the table. “My Lord Ragnok, we found what the house-elves call the “Come and Go” room at Hogwarts about… well, it was towards the beginning of our first year. Anyway, after we cleaned out the room and organized everything, we were left with several piles. One of those piles were these…”

One at a time, wands started drifting out of the box and settling down on the table, in some order that the rest of the group saw, but didn’t understand. Ragnok, however, did understand. It was part of Dverger magic that he could tell that the wands before him were old… very old in some cases.

“Are these, daughter, what I think they are?”

Hermione stepped forward and said, “My Lord, if I may, the answer is yes. We think, though we are not sure, that at least some of these are progenitor’s wands. We brought them because we found them and we want acknowledgement of our rights, under the Wand Act of 1732.”

Ragnok’s eyes grew wide and he took in a deep breath, which was all that Isabelle needed to see to believe what her daughter and daughter-in-law had told her before they began the day’s adventure… that these wands were the key to controlling British magical society and that through them, they would gain control of most of the magical families, either extinct or marginal, and by so doing, re-gain all of the seats in the Wizengamot that had been lost over the centuries; bringing them all under the banner of the House of Dagworth-Ross. Once Riddle is disposed of, magical Britain is ours, and no one knows it but the three of us and Ragnok.

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**Downtown, Washington DC, Monday, August 9, 1993 – Corner of Eight & I streets.**

Washington DC was hot and summery; quieter than it might otherwise be, as people sought the refuge of air-conditioning. Elie Marley was on her way to work at the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO), part of the National Security Agency (NSA or ‘no such agency’). She never felt the wand-tip in her back, or heard the whispered _“Imperio!”_ and she had exactly no ability to fight off the command to step off the curb… right into the path of the WMATA (Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority) bus. No one but the bus-driver saw her, and he had exactly no time to stop. Thump. A scream. Blood. Blood everywhere, as she flew ten feet, headfirst into the back windshield of the car that was ahead in traffic.

**Downtown, Washington DC, Union Station, 50 Massachusetts Ave NE.**

It hadn’t taken much. Agent 004 had followed his target to the Amtrak Train platform. A quick Confundus, a Jelly-legs, and a quick banishing charm, and Peter Gibbons, squib and chief engineer for the NRO’s communications section, fell headfirst off the platform and right in front of a massive, 150-ton diesel engine, pulling 500 tons of passenger rail cars which was just pulling into the station. No one heard his scream above the screeching of the train’s airbrakes.

**Parking Lot C, Johnson Space Center, Special Communications, Houston, Texas**

Phillip Hardley, Ph.D, walked to his car at the end of another day in an endless string of long days. Agent 009 followed him, disillusioned and therefore invisible to all but the best-trained, most careful eye. The 20-year veteran of the special communications section and a reserve officer in the CIA, Hardley never heard the whispered curse that caused the man’s heart to immediately seize shut and pitch him face down onto the hot cement.

**Mai Thai Restaurant, Old Town, Alexandria, VA.**

Abraham Lorca, 25-yr. veteran of the NRO’s data back-up center and Deputy chief of Operations, wasn’t watching his drink, so engrossed was he in watching the tv in the corner that was showing the day’s sports-scores. He never saw the small, white tablet that dropped, ever so quietly, into his cocktail, nor did he realize, as he walked out of the restaurant 30 minutes later, that the feeling of heat and pressure in his stomach was, in fact, the first sign of a 100% fatal, fast-acting, necrotizing poison which would see him dead before he made it to his car, four blocks away.

**Area 51, 20 south of Warm Springs, Nevada**

Agent 003 dismounted from his broom and walked the wreckage of the downed Leer jet. Most of it was still on fire and it took several long minutes to find what he was looking for, but he did. It was the charred, mangled body of Dr. Vanessa Mari-Lora, Maj., USAF., the senior scientist behind the KH-10, -11, and KH-12 satellites. Her death had been a high priority, which was why it had been assigned to him, as the second-most senior field agent. The others who were dead as a result of the crash were simply bonuses, as far as his bosses were concerned. Transfiguring the body into a rock, he summoned it, cooled it, and then walked back to his broom. After mounting, the young agent flew several miles to the west, before dropping the rock in the middle of the desert, where he was confident that no one would ever find it, be he magical or mundane.

**White House, Washington, DC., Office of the Chief of Staff.**

William Michael “Mike” Singlebury was the Chief of Staff to the President of the United States. A former chief of staff to the Speaker of the House of Representatives, and before that, to the CEO of Chevron Corp., Mike Singlebury was a details-man. Painfully so at times, for those who worked for him. He was also a quiet, fair, and decent man who had never been known to utter an unkind word to anyone not in a position to give it back with equal measure, which was to say that he was always meticulously kind to those who worked for him when they did their jobs and did their best. He did not tolerate stupid well and always told his bosses where to shove it if they did or said something stupid or unkind. Unfortunately, Mike Singlebury was also a squib, who has sworn an oath to “uphold and defend” the Constitution of the United States.

Agent 001, Croaker’s finest, waited under the invisibility cloak, in the corner of Singlebury’s office. His breath almost silent, his body masked against infra-red detectors and his feet silenced, 001 was as invisible as magic could make him. It had taken five hours to get this far and 001 knew that he would have one shot at the Chief of Staff.

Finally, at just after 4:43, the door opened and Mike Singlebury walked into his office. He turned, took off his suit coat, and hung it on the coat rack. He never saw nor heard Agent 001’s movements, nor heard the discharge of the small tube which 001 had carried so carefully with him from England. The small dart hit the Chief of Staff squarely in the back of the neck, just below the hairline. 

Composed entirely of the venom of a Basilisk held in suspension by magic, the small dart liquefied and melted into his blood-stream. Because it had hit where it did – just above the 3rd spinal joint, the effect was almost instantaneous. Mike Singlebury never knew what hit him and it would be twenty minutes before his body was found; far longer than it would take to destroy every critical neural pathway in the man’s body. 001 didn’t wait. He apparated away the moment that he was sure that he had been successful; leaving no trace of his ever having been there and leaving behind a huge and terrifying mystery for the Secret Service to solve.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**National Reconnaissance Office, Pentagon – 2 AM, Wednesday, August 11th, 1993**

Agent 014, a relative newbie to the department, flew into the central computer room of the NRO. As the only avian Animagus in the group, 014 was uniquely suited to this particular mission. It wasn’t, however, without its significant dangers. It had taken her twenty seven hours to get into this particular room. She was hungry, tired, and she knew that the moment she landed and transformed back into a person, all hell was going to break loose, so she had to have a full-proof plan to accomplish the mission and then get the hell out of dodge. It was fortunate, therefore, that the no-mags had, very conveniently, already provided way out for someone with her talent.

She knew, because of information that had been leaked out of the office, that the cleaning company came in at 2am every morning. That gave her the window she needed.

At precisely 2:10 am, one of the janitors swiped his badge and opened room 11A. propping it open so that the could bring his cleaning materials in. He never saw the small sparrow follow him in and fly up, to perch on the sprinkler head that was above the only desk in the room.

It took the better part of thirty minutes for the man to finish and pack out both the day’s trash, which would be sent to the secure burning facility, and his cleaning supplies. Once the door shut and she was alone, she paused. She was exhausted. Holding her Animagus form was exceedingly tiring, since she had to control its movements every step of the way. She promised herself that she would eat the protein bar in her pocket and drink her last vial of Pepper-up potion before she took on the complex job of wiping all of the computers in the room. She figured she had about seven minutes to do everything she had to do, and get out, before the storm troopers arrived to try to kill her.

Centering herself, Agent 014 flew down to the desk and became human again. That’s when the klaxons started sounding. _Fuck! _. Ok... Focus! She drank the Pepper-Up potion, ate the protein/energy bar, and then set to work. Taking out her wand she swept the room with her arm. _Delere! _She all but yelled, since it helped to focus her magic and put additional power into her spell-casting. She repeated the spell four times before switching to the more specific, _Obliterate!_ Spell, that worked on computers in general. She pointed to each huge bank of tape-decks in the room and cast the _Oblivisci!_ Spell that had been created specifically for erasing such systems. By now she could hear loud footsteps and angry voices in the hall and she knew that it was time to go. Seeing the air-duck above the central bank of computers, she focused her magic, pulled the hatch open, and with a final push, became her Animagus form one more time. Flying upwards, she was safely into the air-duct when the door to the secure room burst open. She didn’t look back, but flew down the long, grey air-duct, and upwards, towards freedom. In twenty minutes, she’d be safely outside, where she could activate her portkey and disappear. All she had to do now was follow the upward winds.____

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__**Office of the Director of Intelligence, NSA, Fort Meade, Maryland, 07:30 hours, Wednesday, August 11th, 1993**_ _

__“Someone’s declared war on us, gentlemen” The director of the NSA said as he looked around the table. “Very early this morning, someone broke into the most secure computer room in the Pentagon and erased twenty-five years’ worth of data and destroyed the computer systems so thoroughly that I have been told that it is going to take the better part of six months just for us to figure out how to restore what’s been lost, if it’s even possible.”_ _

__There was collective shock around the room as each man or woman (mostly men) considered the implications of someone who could achieve such an attack and get away with it. But the NSA director wasn’t finished. “Yesterday afternoon, someone murdered the Chief of Staff to the President of the United States, in his office! Someone got all the way inside the White House and killed the President’s man!”_ _

__“But who could do such a thing, John?” The Director of Operations for the CIA asked._ _

__“Mary-pat, I have no fucking idea. Someone obviously has developed techniques that we can’t counter or don’t understand.”_ _

__Mary Patricia Foley, The DO for the CIA after the passing of her husband, thought she might have an inkling, but knew she couldn’t say anything without the President’s direct say-so._ _

__“Worse, ladies and gentlemen, in the past forty-eight hours, seven people directly or indirectly attached to the NRO have been killed or have died under ‘mysterious’ circumstances. One was hit by a bus, another somehow stumbled off a platform and into the path of an Amtrak train. A third died of a very sudden and mysterious heart attack. Another died of what looks to be some kind of sudden onset stomach cancer.. like 24-hour stomach cancer. The last three died of a plane crash in Nevada… a two hundred hour old Leer jet that had just been entirely certified to fly. These were all critical people and someone has decided that they needed to die. One’s an accident. Two’s a coincidence. Three or more is a conspiracy. We have to find out who is after us and we have to do something about it!” He slammed the table and looked around._ _

__“No one?” He asked, seeing the blank but horrified looks on their faces._ _

__Mary Foley looked at him and said, “You and I need to talk to the President, together.”_ _

__That made the head of the NSA lift an eyebrow and meet her gaze for a very long moment before nodding._ _

__“I want answers! And I want them NOW, gentlemen. See to your commands. Get me answers! Dismissed!”_ _

__With that, John Bell Edwards walked passed Mary Patricia Foley, “Come with me” He said quietly._ _

__Mary-Pat, as she was known, got up and walked with the head of the NSA, out of the conference room and down several hallways, until they reached his office. The door closed behind them and the NSA head signaled for her to have a seat. “Coffee?”_ _

__“Yes, please. Milk. One sugar.”_ _

__After a moment fiddling at the coffee urn that the kitchen staff studiously maintained for him, he brought over two mugs. One he sat down on the desk in front of her and one at his place, across from her._ _

__“Ok, spill. You obviously know something.”_ _

__“I do, John, or at least I think I do, but I have to have the president’s permission to disclose it.”_ _

__“Oh. Well, that’s easy.” Turning, he picked up the phone, punched two numbers, set the receiver down, and waited. When the phone rang again, he picked it up. “Yes. This is Edwards.” Other thirty seconds went by before he spoke again. Finally he said, “Yes, Mr. President. I have Mary Patricia Foley here with me. She says that she has to ask you a question, and do so in my presence. Can I put you on speaker-phone?” He did so and a moment later, they both heard the Texas nasal twang of the President’s voice._ _

__“Mary Pat? Is that you?” “Yes, Mr. President. It is. Thank you for taking our call. I need to ask you, officially, if I can share the secret with Director Edwards, for a matter of national security. It has to do with Mike’s death.” “You think they’re involved?”_ _

__“Directly or indirectly, sir. Someone’s obviously made a calculation that our government is a threat and is moving to try to blind us. The fastest way to do that would be to kill specific people, who have positions of authority… especially in Reconnaissance or organization at the highest levels. That would mean someone like Mike, Sir.”_ _

__George Herbert Walker Bush thought about that for a moment before saying, “Yes. You can read him in on the secret. John?”_ _

__“Yes, Mr. President?”_ _

__“The secret goes no farther than your office, do you understand?”_ _

__“Yes, Sir. My office. No farther.”_ _

__“Good. Let me know what develops, Mary Pat.”_ _

__“Yes, Mr. President. I will do that. Thank you, Sir.” With that, the line went dead and Director Edwards turned off the speaker on the phone system._ _

__“So, you want to tell me what is so god-damned secret that it can’t leave my office?”_ _

__“Ever read Tolkien? Or played Dungeons and Dragons?”_ _

__John looked at her and said, “Well, yes to the first, but no to the second. Why?”_ _

__“Because magic is real, John.”_ _

__“What? Bullshit.”_ _

__“No, John. It’s real, and it’s terrifying.”_ _

__“I don’t believe you.”_ _

__“John, I can prove it.”_ _

__“What? You can prove it?”_ _

__“Yes. Let me at your computer for a moment. I’ll show you.”_ _

__“Whatever. Here. Sit.”_ _

__Mary Patricia Foley sat down at the plush desk and started typing away, until she got to a point where she had to take a special card out of a sleeve that was in her pocket. She removed the card and slid it into a small, non-descript card-reader on the man’s desk. The card reader did its work and two lights blinked green. She removed the card from the reader and put back into the special sleeve, before returning it to her pocket._ _

__It took a further thirty seconds or so for her to get into the system that she had been trying to access. Once in, she clicked the mouse several times, to get to a special sub-directory. Clicking on one of the icons, several dialog boxes sprang up in a row. Very carefully, she entered all of the passwords necessary, one at a time, to get to the files that she wanted. The whole process to about five minutes. When she was done, a video file started playing on the screen._ _

__Mary Patricia Foley signaled for John to sit and watch the video play itself out. It wasn’t the best quality, but what it showed was remarkable._ _

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__An hour later, John Bell Edwards sat, trembling, and wondering just how the hell a day could go to shit so quickly. The intervening hour had been enough for a great deal more data to flow into the NSA about the deaths of nine more people, all of whom were in one way or another attached to the NRO or the NSA. The body-count was now at sixteen and they had every reason to believe that they were going to lose others. Someone, or several someones, had declared war against the U.S Government and was making every effort to blind them at every turn. Four more computer centers had been completely destroyed and the data-bases which they created, managed, or stored, totally erased._  
_

__What was worse was that they had no defenses against whomever was doing the killing and destroying. It was hard, if not impossible, to protect against someone who could be invisible, even to their most sophisticated sensors._ _

__It was hard to say what was scarier: the fact that whomever was doing the killing could bypass their supposedly ‘invulnerable’ defenses or that there were people in the world who could destroy entire nations without really trying and against whom their most fearsome weapons were entirely meaningless._ _

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__**White House, Washington, DC – Thursday, August 12th**_ _

__George Herbert Walker Bush was scared. Maybe as scared as he had ever been, and he was a multiply-decorated WWII fighter-pilot who wasn’t used to being scared by anything. He had just hung up the phone from a conference call between himself, John Major, Gerhard Schroeder – the Chancellor of Germany, and Francois Mitterrand, the President of France and each said the same thing: Someone had declared war against his country. Their national Surveillance offices were being hit particularly hard, along with their computer systems, data-bases, and data-archives. Bush had broached the possible reality that their magical populations were in active rebellion, but had been shot down on that score. Each of them had said so… except John Major, who had been very, very quiet when the topic had come up. That was enough for George Bush, who promised himself to follow up with the British Prime Minister at the earliest opportunity._ _

__After the phone call, the principles met in the oval office. George Bush had known for a very long time that Dick Cheney was a coward, a liar, and an asshole and that he was a man who had ambitions far beyond his current station. However, George H.W Bush also knew that Cheney was a man with extensive contacts and influence and that couldn’t be set aside easily, despite his abiding wish to do so._ _

__Secretaries of Defense Donald Rumsfeld and State - Condoleezza Rice, Karen Hughes, senior counsel to the President, Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz, and Deputy Secretary of Defense Richard Armitage, were all critical players. Bush trusted them all, for their council and for their commitment to absolute silence on some topics. The existence of Magic in the world was one of those. To say that the discussion that followed was spirited was something of an understatement. It got to the point where the Secret Service agents, all four of them, actually made eye contact with the President and eased off the wall a bit, at each of their posting points around the room, in case tempers flared beyond the point where they had so far. The President wasn’t a fool and he knew that sometimes, you had to let your people vent. However, the personalities in the room were more than a tad explosive and each would go to the mat to defend his/her position. That made the presence of the Secret Service something of a necessity, since having one or more of his principal deputies kill each other would not play well on T.V and in the public mind-set._ _

__Finally, George H.W. Bush called the meeting to a halt. “Alright, I’ve heard enough. Don, take Paul and Richard and get me a plan to start dealing with this situation, if it’s possible at all. Condi, you go and get us a plan to work with our allies, to figure out if we can present some kind of united front against this. Karen – you work with Condi and get back to me with what you and she create. Alright. Go.” With that, the principals knew they were dismissed, despite the heat of the meeting and their individual inabilities to convince the President of the rightness of their positions._ _

__After the meeting broke up, a tall, lean, grey-haired man knocked and then walked into the oval office. George Bush looked up. It was Tom Gallant, the head of his Secret Service detail. “Tom, what can I do for you?”_ _

__“Good evening, Mr. President. Thank you for seeing me. I wanted to tell you that we have been in contact with John Major’s office and that we have some very worrying news.” The President didn’t smile. “Please tell me that those two British girls aren’t out gunning for my head.” “No sir. Actually, they haven’t been seen since late June and there is no indication that they have it out for anyone. No. What I wanted to tell you is that we figured out how your chief of Staff was killed.” That made the President’s eyes go wide. “He was murdered?” “Yes, sir. He was. Someone got close enough to dart him in the back of the neck with a previously unknown poison. One so fast-acting that we are sure that he was dead before he hit the floor.”_ _

__That made the President almost stop breathing for a moment. Any poison that worked that fast would be unstoppable, because there would be no way to administer a counter-agent quickly enough._ _

__“Sir, we… we can’t protect you from something like that. Someone getting all the way into the White House, bypassing all of the security measures and getting close enough to your Chief of Staff to administer a poison like that means that they can do it to you. Or your family, Sir. I’m sorry. I know that’s very harsh, and we’ve all sworn our lives to protect you, but this is something beyond our abilities.”_ _

__“No idea who it is?” “Nothing, sir. There haven’t been any written threats, or phoned in ones, or anything. Nothing’s been published that we know about and there are no terrorist videos floating around that even mention your name, much less a capacity to do something like this. No, sir, this is… well, it’s beyond us, sir.”_ _

__“Any reason to believe my family would be targeted?” “No sir. Your family is loved. More than you, sir, if you’ll pardon it, Sir.”_ _

__H.W waived it off. He knew that there were people who truly hated him. Not nearly as much as they had hated Reagan, but there were pockets none-the-less. “You know the nature of the threat, Tom? You’ve been read in?” “Yes, Sir. To be honest, sir, I don’t know what I can say. Your detail would give anything to protect you. We hope you know that. But… if someone can come and go like we’ve been told, then there’s little we can do to protect you.”_ _

__The President nodded. He had been told, quite explicitly, what had happened to John Major’s personal protective force, and it made him feel vulnerable in a way that nothing else did. “Tom, I don’t expect you, or any of your people to throw away their lives in a vain attempt to save me. If someone like the two girls comes gunning for me, well, I would hope that we could talk them down… but in the end, there’s nothing that any of us could do and I want to see you be able to go home to your family at the end of the day. I’ve had a long and good life, and if that’s the way my end comes, well, so be it. You understand?”_ _

__Tom Gallant looked panicked. He had never received such an order before and he was gob-smacked by it. “Sir, please, don’t ask that of us! It’s our job and our honor to…”_ _

__“No! Tom. Hear me out. If someone as powerful as one of the British girls comes gunning for me, there’s nothing that can be done. You know what they’re capable of doing. I’d much rather trade my life in favor of the country, than the other way around. Are we clear?”_ _

__“Sir, I understand. I protest most strongly, but I understand.”_ _

__“Good. Make sure the rest of the detail does as well. I will not see the country compromised by some ridiculous attempt to save me, that ends up infuriating those who are capable of the kind of destruction those two are capable of creating.”_ _

__Tom Gallant felt sick to his stomach. He had never had a conversation with his primary like this before, and he prayed to God that he never would again. His oath was to the President and to the country and what he had just been asked to consider was to … abandon one to save the other._ _

__Suddenly, the honor and dignity that was George Herbert Walker Bush struck him to the core. Like a lightning bolt, Tom Gallant realized just what kind of man he was serving, and it humbled him right down to his toes, and that was saying something for someone who had been a Marine 1st lieutenant and seen combat in Vietnam and elsewhere._ _

__“Yes, sir. I promise, sir.” “Good. Now that we’re clear on that, talk to me about what happened to Mike.”_ _

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__**North shore of Lake Monetjørna, Norway, Friday, August 13th.**_ _

__Hermione Dagworth-Ross sashayed across the expansive living-room, naked as the day she was born, save for the fox-tail that swished between her legs. It was external part of the devious toy that was wedged snugly in her bottom; the one that teased her and pleased her with every step that she took. She and Harley, her wife of more than a year now, were alone in the house. Harley’s adoptive mother, Isabelle, and her Godfather, Sirius Black, had married on the previous Saturday, the 7th of August, at the Hexham Abbey in Northumberland and were now off on their honeymoon._ _

__The alone-time was exactly what she had wanted and hoped-for, since they had never really had such time together before. It was also a chance to really explore the physical side of their relationship… something that was sorely lacking while they were at Hogwarts._ _

__At almost 5’5 now, Harley was not quite statuesque, but yet still was a nubile beauty without equal. Every move she made, Hermione thought, was done with a Goddess’ supernal radiance. There was no one else on Earth who moved with such inherent power and grace. Hermione would have blushed to know that Harley felt exactly the same way about her, and that there was nothing about the brunette girl that didn’t make her wet with sexual desire, from her astonishing mind to the magic she wielded so effortlessly, to her super-lean, silky-smooth, perfect body._ _

__Looking out from the porch that surrounded the house, over the lake that was theirs and theirs alone, Harley Ross sipped her coffee happily, content in the silence that was a special part of the area. “Hi, beautiful” Hermione whispered into her wife’s ear as she came up behind her and reached around with both hands, to cup her wife’s breasts._ _

__“Oh, fuck, Hermione. That feels so good.” Harley moaned, as her nipples immediately went rock-hard with desire._ _

__“I want to fuck you so much, love.” Hermione said as she pushed her own breasts into her wife’s back and then kissed the bare spot on her neck, just below her hairline._ _

__“Oh…… fuck, love. Please don’t stop!”_ _

__Hermione giggled. “Oh, I’m not going to stop, love. I want to make you cum and cum and cum. We have the next three days to ourselves and you are so mine.”_ _

__Harley couldn’t believe how wet her pussy was, but she reveled in it, because there was no one around for hundreds of miles and she didn’t have to worry about anyone or anything bothering them. More, the toys in her ass and pussy, which Hermione had, with teasing slowness, slid into her after they had finished their morning ablutions, were driving her mad. More so because her nipples seemingly had a direct, wired connection to her clit and every caress of her wife’s hands, every rolling touch of Hermione’s palms, sent outrageously pleasurable shock-waves right to her pussy, which in turn squeezed the unbreakable, hollow, stainless-steel dildo, setting off even more waves of orgasm-making pleasure._ _

__For once, Harley just let her beautiful wife have her wicked way with her body, without worry that they were going to be interrupted or bothered or even seen. They deserved the time together. The school year had been long and a lot had happened, it was good to be able to ‘stand down’ for a while and do something other than crash the books in the library, or resolve arguments, or plan for the next mystery gift, or whatever._ _

__Cupping Hermione’s hands with her own, she pushed her ass backwards, into her wife’s pussy, which made the toy in her ass move around even more. “I wish you had a cock, so you could fuck my ass.” “Me too. I’d ride you until I passed out.” “We’re going to have to work on that, love.” Harley said, before dragging Hermione with her to the closest lounge chair. “Now eat my pussy!!”__

__**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>** _ _

__  


__Norway is a NATO country, and even if it weren’t, it was a European Union member, and therefore compelled to at least consider honoring the requests of other EU member-nations. In this case, the Government of Norway was attempting to honor the request of the British government for more information on two young women, whom, both countries knew, were exceedingly dangerous, and could cause a great deal of havoc if pushed to it._ _

__The request for information was being honored by the presence of two photographers, with high magnification telescopes and long-range cameras. The two photographers were unaware of the nature of the two girls whom they were filming. They didn’t know that not knowing it was a problem. It was a problem because Murphy’s a bitch._ _

__It was understandable that the two men were getting excited as they watched the two young women make love on the porch of the only home in the area. There’s really nothing quite as beautiful as two young women loving each other and the men reacted as most men would. Perhaps Murphy thought that they deserved a little pleasure before they exited this life, or that he could be particularly cruel in tearing them away from such a scene, but torn away they would be._ _

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

Dobby sat on the branch of the tree, above the now bloody scene, and thought about the fact that rules were dumb. He had been told that he could never directly harm a witch or wizard, but no one had ever said anything about the not-magical people. They were fair game, as far as the rules went. And… Dobby had very specific rules from Mistress Harley that protecting Hermione was his first and really only command. So… he watched the wolves of the pack eat their fill, leaving clothes and equipment behind. With a snap of his fingers, those went away too, leaving only blood and bone and sated wolves. Dobby wondered if it would be enough to protect Mistress Hermione, so he promised himself that he would make sure the 300 house-elves bonded to the houses of Ross and Potter were ready to do whatever was necessary to protect his mistresses.

Many things that Dobby did for his mistress were a secret unto him and him alone, or between him and the other elves who served the houses of Ross and Potter. However, there were things that he couldn’t not tell his mistress and the death of the photographers was one of those. She needed to know that there were bad people in the woods, trying to watch his mistresses.

Dobby didn’t know if he should punish himself for what he had done, but Mistress had always said that he was never to punish himself for anything; that they would talk about whatever he had done and that she would tell him if she were disappointed by something that he had done. Dobby knew that the “Great and Kind Mistress Harley” had never punished him for anything. Mistress loved her Dobby… and said that she would protect! her Dobby. It was confusing for the other elves, but they knew that the “Great and Kind Mistress Harley” was good to her word, which made them want to be family, like Dobby, even more.

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**HQ, MI-6, Century House, Westminster Bridge Road, Lambeth, UK – Monday, August 15th**

If the overlords at the IWC had a ‘type’ that they favored as a spy for the organization, it was the exceptionally tall, super-lean, international-model-level-beautiful young woman. Certainly, that’s what Viann Zhang Xinyu was all about. At 5’8, she moved with an unmatched, lithe elegance down the hallways of MI-6’s executive level.

Training as a spy meant becoming completely fluent in Mandarin Chinese, Korean, Thai, Malay, English, Vietnamese, and French. She had grown up with Mandarin and Malay, so the others became her challenges as she worked her way through her training program. It also meant learning, slight-of-hand techniques, how to pass messages covertly, steal information from magicals and no-mags alike, kill if necessary, and most of all, how to blend in, in such a way that even the cleverest enemies would never suspect her. In all these ways, Viann was an invaluable asset to her bosses, magical and muggle alike.

The no-mags had no idea of course that she, like her sister-spy Hlengiwe M’Bala, actually worked for the IWC. The Chinese thought that she worked for them, but that was with the blessing of the British secret service, which had gone out of its way to insert Viann into their ranks. Viann thought it was all a great laugh, because she was collecting three full paychecks and quickly become a very wealthy young woman, while still having the benefit of being a witch, with all that entailed.

This day, things had gone to hell at the operational level. Not only had several ‘assets’ gone missing, but so had another of the massive Rhyolite KH-designation satellites that both the British and Americans depended on for intelligence-gathering. This one had been orbiting above Norway… which was quickly become one of their most hated spots on the planet. Bad things happened in Norway. As an agent of the IWC, she knew exactly why bad things happened in Norway. It was the summer home of the two most powerful witches on the planet and they took their privacy seriously. Very, very seriously. Even trained IWC agents didn’t dare go near the property, for fear of being found and killed. That’s why the American President and British Prime Minister had asked the Norwegian (no-mag) government to do some snooping for them. It was thought that they would be less conspicuous and might not attract the attention of the two targets. That proved fatal. Specks of blood and chewed-clean bones from their last known location showed, definitively, that the agents were dead. Cause? Wolf attack, supposedly… but their equipment was missing, as were their clothes and ID’s. That meant deliberation and that meant that the photographers had been discovered and killed.

The thing that worried Viann, her sister-spies, and their bosses, was that at some point, the NATO governments were going to become desperate. Fear makes people do strange and awful things and fear at a national level could lead to quite horrible consequences.

As a result, Viann had to be exceedingly careful about what she asked about, what she said, and the people with whom she publicly associated. Even with executive-suite access, she still wasn’t a decision-maker. She was an interpreter and region-expert for Asia officially, and unofficially, personal adviser to the Deputy Director of Operations.

Her unofficial role came from the fact that the DDO admired her brains, trusted her instincts, and thought she had a “totally gorgeous, fuckable ass”. Since the DDO was a no-mag and she was a trained Legilimens, she knew exactly what he thought of her, and her ass, and so she made every effort to dress to show it off, both for his happiness and her personal satisfaction as a woman…. and Viann didn’t mind, really.

His weakness made her mission easier. She still had to be careful, however. The Brits didn’t take spying any less seriously and she’d be lucky to get away if she were ever cornered. Her orders, unfortunately, were to not be taken alive. It was ugly, but the IWC’s mission was too important to be compromised. Her death would be painless, she had been assured, but it would still suck.

Despite her own worries, Viann was glad that she wasn’t the person in charge of the office. Things had gone to shit to such a degree that the department was running out of options as well as assets. The Americans and Brits were down to the last 8 KH satellites; a far cry from the 14 that they had been operating jointly just several months prior. Each satellite was $6 – $6.05 billion dollars, not including the missile launch itself. When labor and inflation was factored in, each lost satellite was north of $6.35 billion dollars. Even for the Americans, that was a lot of money. The Russians were in a worse position. They had started out with 12 and were down to their last 4.. and their economy sucked.

Not for the first time, as she returned to her office, Viann wondered just how far she would have to go to help the no-mags, in order to keep her cover. None of the people for whom she worked was permitted to know ‘the secret’ and they never would be, in ordinary circumstances, but her access to the thinking, and to the intelligence “take” that flowed through the office was invaluable to the IWC. Unfortunately, these were not ordinary circumstances. Some portion of the magical world had initiated a war against the government – that much was clear. The IWC didn’t really have a dog in that fight, except where keeping the secret was concerned. Any action that made that easier was supported and every action that made it harder was attacked. Now there were two young people, Magi, who were setting that on its head. One of them, who was thought to be the more powerful of the two, had destroyed the six U.S and eight Russian KH-type satellites, to the tune of $38 billion for the U.S and almost $50 billion for the Russians - or about one-half of their total annual defense budget.

Those were the kinds of numbers, Viann knew, to make a country mad enough to do something dangerous or dumb, depending on how you looked at it. Nothing had happened yet, but she was worried. Except at the highest levels, Viann was sure that the U.S government did not know what it was facing. She hoped that those who did know wouldn’t end up doing something stupid; something that could lead them into a war that they could not possibly win. Whether the Russians had any inkling of what was happening, she did not know, but she hoped that they weren’t going to go squirrely either, since they had nuclear weapons and a tendency to do aggressive, stupidly dangerous things when threatened… and having your spy satellites taken away from you certainly qualified.

So lost in thought was she that the ringing phone startled her. Picking it up, she realized that the caller-ID said that it was an internal extension. “Zinyu speaking.” “Viann, it’s Peter.” Peter Valeri was her boss. “I need you in my office in ten minutes. The DO and the head of NSA are coming in to talk about the Russians and the Chinese.” “Yes, Sir. Anyone else?” 

“No. This is a code-word access meeting, so it’s just you and me and our guests.”

“I understand. I’ll be there.”

Valeri cut the line and Viann put the phone down, after taking a deep breath. The IWC was going to want to know about this meeting, which meant that she was going to have to prepare herself mentally to transcribe the entire meeting into a memory, and that meant that she needed to spend the next few minutes meditating.

**{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

**Saturday, August 21st, 1993 – Diagon Alley, London, UK**

At precisely Noon, The H’Reem appeared at the head of the Alley, with a resounding Boom! That rang through the Alley. Shoppers and vendors alike watched in awe as eighty students, twenty from each of the Houses of Hogwarts, appeared with the flash of black light and a coronal wave of magic. At the head of the group stood the two Magi, on either side of the Headmaster himself, Sirius Orion Black, dressed in the Gold and Black of his ceremonial cloak of office.

Onlookers trembled as they felt the press of the Magi’s magics and saw their Athames openly displayed. Those who were usually bent towards mischief saw them and realized that this day was not the day to be caught doing anything untoward, lest the Magi decide to enforce their peculiar version of justice. 

_At almost 6’4, Sirius Black toward over the crowd, both magically and physically. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, he was virtually unstoppable when he was carrying the invisible cloak of responsibility for his charges. Hogwarts itself leant its enormous magical reserves to the Headmaster, to bolster him or her in times of need. That was why no one in his or her right mind would oppose him._

_Turning, Sirius barked out, “Hogwarts! You represent all of us today. Carry your dignity with you wherever you go. Be kind in word and deed. Do us proud. Let no one cause harm in your presence! Dicker for your purchases, but do not harass or threaten. Pay for quality and do not cheat anyone of a rightfully earned Galleon. Am I understood?”_

_“YES, SIR” their collective voices came back. Even Harley and Hermione answered him loud and strong._

_The shop-owners all knew, because they had been warned, that the Ladies Ross, as well as the scions of the House of Bones, Malfoy, Longbottom, Zabini, Greengrass, were all in the Alley, and they were be demanding quality goods and would not accept the crap that was so often foisted off on the general public._

_“Go. Shop.” Sirius said. “You have four hours. Remember, the next time you see these salespeople, it will be in Hogsmeade!”_

_And with that, the group broke up into small clusters. Each of the students who was a part of the H’Reem was dressed in black and white. Black skirts and white cotton polo shirts for the girls and black slacks and white polos for the boys, along with dress shoes. Each student also wore a pendant signifying his or her house and a small pin signifying his or her year rank. The Head Boy and Head Girl wore a 1” wide, gold 5-pointed star, with an H in the middle, which was a change from the obnoxious “HB” or “HG” pins that they had previously had to wear._

_Among the students were Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass and they moved as a couple, once the larger body of students had dispersed. Draco was surprised by the number of people he recognized, by face and title, who were also out shopping. It seemed altogether surprising that so many would be out on a Saturday in the middle of the summer._

_“They came to see us” Daphne whispered to him as they walked._

_“Why?” Draco replied, just as quietly, not wanting their conversation to be overheard._

_“Because the Headmaster has kept everything so quiet. You’ve seen the Prophet. You know how little they’ve been reporting.”_

_Draco shrugged. In truth, he hadn’t really seen the Prophet much at all. Reading the daily paper just wasn’t his thing… not when there were letters from Daphne, Harley, Hermione, and Tracey to be read. Even Seamus Finnegan and Blaise Zabini had written long letters to him that had gotten him thinking, as well as provoking long letters in reply. Draco was about to say, “Would you be mad at me if I said no?” when the sickening brown of a dark curse just missed his head and slammed into a stone pillar behind him. Without thinking, he grabbed Daphne and pulled her inside a store and to the floor, where he wandlessly cast the most powerful shield he had ever created._

_The screaming outside went on for a moment and then abated, only to be replaced with cheering. Draco dispelled his shield, pulled Daphne to her feet, and went out to see what was going on._

_In the middle of the Alley, Sirius Black was brutally holding a man in a Death-Eater mask by the neck, with his Athame pointing at the man’s stomach. Waves of furious anger poured off him and everyone could feel the power that was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. It didn’t take long for Amelia Bones and a squad of Aurors to appear. The head of the DMLE did not look happy._

_“Headmaster! Who is that?”_

_“Let’s find out, Amelia.” He said, before ripping the mask off the man. There was a gasp from the crowd when he did so. It was Cignus Rookwood, the youngest brother of Augustus Rookwood, a Death-Eater who had already paid for his crimes by dying of ‘unnatural’ causes in Azkaban, which was to say that he had been repeatedly shot in the head at close range by Remus Lupin before being consumed by the Fiend Fyre that Harley had unleashed in the prison._

_“You tried to kill my God-daughter, Cignus. You missed. Want to know what happens to people to try to kill my God-daughter?”_

_Cignus knew one thing about Sirius Black… that the man’s Animagus form was a Grim. He had no idea what it was like to face the most powerful witch on the planet. “Sirius! NO! You can’t do that!”_

_“Really? And who are you to stop me? To stop us? This asshole tried to kill my god-daughter. You know the rules. You know he’s ours to deal with.”_

_Amelia looked at her former partner in law enforcement; the man who had guarded her back on so many raids and arrests. Then she looked at the Ladies Ross, who were looking positively feral. She could feel their combined magic, which was rolling off them in thunderous waves. She realized that she didn’t have a hope in Hell of stopping them from administering Justice as they saw fit. Not when the entire H’Reem was present and looking for blood._

_“God damn it, Sirius! You can’t just kill him!” Amelia swore, in front of the crowd._

_“Really? Who says? You know the rules. You know the Right of Blood. Tell me that this bastard should escape his fate.”_

_“At least find out who sent him!” Amelia nearly screamed._

_Sirius shrugged. “Fine. Be that way. Alright… Harley… do what you have to.”_

_Sirius dropped the would-be killer in favor of his God-daughter’s version of Justice. It was a shock, then, that Susan Bones stepped in front of the two Magi and said, “No. Let me. You don’t need his blood on your hands. Me? I don’t care. He tried to kill you and that’s more than enough for me. The House of Bones is sworn to protect the House of Ross. Let the House of Bones do its duty and bring justice to this Death-Eater.”_

_Harley looked at Hermione for a moment and she nodded. She didn’t want the man’s blood on her hands anymore than Harley did, but sometimes things were out of one’s control and Harley felt that this was such a moment._

_Susan Bones stepped forward and said, in a loud and clear voice, “Cignus Rookwood, The House of Bones owes a debt to the House of Potter and the House of Ross that it can never repay. We claim Right of Blood this day in recognition of that debt, in defense of our friends, the Ladies Ross. You will die at our hands.”_

_Draco Malfoy, with Daphne in tow, stepped forward, so that everyone in the alley could see him. In a ringing voice he said, “Cignus Rookwood! You are despised. More, you are a foul, evil little cockroach. We are disgusted by the thought of having to lower ourselves to deal with you, but such is the debt that the House of Malfoy owes to the House of Ross, that there is no service which we would not do. We claim the House of Rookwood blood enemies of the House of Malfoy, for all generations. We stand with the Ladies Ross and take up their banner. We defend the House of Bones and salute its courage.”_

_What no one was expecting was the sudden presence of Neville Longbottom, looking ever inch the Gryffindor. “Cignus Rookwood. You are a coward, and the House of Longbottom stands forth, ready to give every measure of sacrifice in defense of the Ladies Ross, for their unspeakable gift of vengeance on behalf of the House of Longbottom. You will die today and the House of Longbottom will forever call the House of Rookwood blood enemies.”_

_Rookwood knew he was going to die. He could not Apparate, he could not run, and he could not defend himself. He had picked the wrong side and his death would be the cost of his error. The sudden, magical noose around his throat caught him off-guard. “Who sent you?”_

_He struggled to breath, even as the question was repeated again and again and the pressure around his throat increased. The oaths that he had sworn kept him from revealing anything, which was good for the people who sent him, but bad for him. He started to turn blue and it was at that moment that Susan Bones’ light-sword cut him into pieces. It happened faster than anyone could imagine. In the blink of an eye, he was in bloody pieces on the ground._

_The crowd cheered, but only briefly, and stopped suddenly when all the people who had gathered saw the furious look on Harley’s face._

_When it was over, Amelia Bones looked at her niece, nodded but did not smile, and then turned her back and disappeared in the crowd, along with the Auror contingent that she had brought. Susan found that she was alright with her Aunt’s reaction. Amelia Bones was no longer Bones of Bones, she was. Her aunt was a good woman and courageous in her own way, but she was set in the ways of the 1970’s, and she didn’t realize, Susan thought, that there was a new power, a new sheriff in town, and that her time would soon pass… or that she did realize that there was a new sheriff in town and resented it. Susan couldn’t be sure which._

_No one stopped to look at the body. Sirius burned it down until it was dust, and then banished the dust with most casual flick of his finger. He had been learning the subtleties of wandless magic from his god-daughter, a situation that was more than a little perverse, and recognized that it was will and only will that mattered in the end. If you could visualize an outcome, you could will it to happen. If you could not visualize, and there were more than a few people who had that challenge, then you had to use your wand to create, endlessly, until you were able to accomplish your goal. Hermione thought that those who could not visualize might be able to talk out.. to speak their desires, until it became real for them. It was a laudable goal, Harley thought, since she knew more than a few wizards and witches who had problems with visualization._

_Once the ‘show’ was over, the Alley returned to something that was more akin to normal, though the group that surrounded the Ladies Ross grew, so that no one could get close enough again to take another shot at them._

_**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>** _

_Rita Skeeter had watched the entire drama with Cignus Rookwood play out, and had seen flash of the light-saber that had cut him down. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been close enough to hear what had been said, since she was too far away and the crowd, too loud. All she knew was that the man that they had caught had tried to take a shot at one of the Ladies Ross and the response had been swift and deadly._

_As a reporter, she was conflicted. She wanted to know what people had seen, but she didn’t dare poke her nose too far into the business of the two Magi. It was clear to everyone that doing so was a ticket to trouble, if not pain and death, and she had a very healthy desire to live. Unfortunately, her distance from a story was directly proportional to her ability to earn a living. The closer she got (usually), the more money she made… and she was close to broke and desperate for a story… so, if there was a way to get close to this story, she needed to find it. Her lifestyle, to the degree she had one, was not inexpensive. The hair, nails, and wardrobe for which she was famous did not come cheap and she knew she had a limited number of years during which her looks would hold, sufficient to allow her to earn a good living._

_The other issue was that other than having become an Animagus, she was not a particularly strong witch, and the people she wanted and needed to investigate were so much more powerful than she that it wasn’t even a contest. She could never even consider going head to head with the Headmaster, for example, or his new wife, or any of the professors at Hogwarts really, because she would, more than likely, be killed before she even thought about drawing her wand – which wasn’t she could just come out and say that, because it would read as the jealousy that it was, and no reader wants to have to feel pity for the reporter._

_No, her best bet, she thought, was to find a place to land, in one of the Alley’s shops, and wait for the Ladies Ross to enter, so that she could listen to their conversations. Baring that, she’d try to follow one of the others, maybe the Scion Malfoy, in order to ‘bug’ his conversations with his betrothed, La héritier, the heir-presumptive Daphne Greengrass._

_**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>** _

_In a darkened passageway that slid between two of the seamier parts of Knockturn Alley, Mundungus Fletcher waited to meet his contact. He was a sniveling coward, much like the late, unlamented Peter Pettigrew, but found the necessary bits of courage when there was enough gold or food on the line and this deal promised a great deal of gold… if he could live long enough to collect it._

_**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>** _

_**Thursday, September 2nd, 1993 – Platform 9 & 3/4, Kings’ Cross Station, London**_

_Harley, Hermione, Remus Lupin, and the rest of the Hogwarts students congregated on the platform at 9 & ¾, waiting to board. Every student was prepared for trouble, since the attack on Harley’s life, twelve days prior. Aurors identified every single person coming through the portal, and made sure that none of them was under the influence of Polyjuice or the Imperious Curse. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it seemed to bolster confidence in the system that Aurors were taking sensible precautions to defend the students. It was also warded against the normal Apparition methods, but not against Harley’s modified version, as no one had yet come up with a way to block that._

_Remus had planned to ride the train to Hogwarts, to act as a protector, but he realized that was kind of silly, since Harley and Hermione were far and away more dangerous that he was on his best day. They didn’t yet have his stamina, but when they were casting magic, it was overwhelming, and that had a quality all its own._

_As the train started to take passengers, Remus looked at his two charges. “I’ll see you at Hogwarts.”_

_“Take care, Moony. Be careful, eh?”_

_“I’d say the same to the two of you, but that would be ridiculous.”_

_“Tell my mom I love her and I’ll see her soon, ok?”_

_“Will do, kiddo. Now, got get on and I’ll see you tonight.”_

_Harley took Hermione’s hand and they started to move to the train. Their trunks had already been taken to their dorm-room by Dobby and so the two girls were carefree for the afternoon. Remus didn’t understand the bounce that was in their steps, but he figured that whatever it was, it was harmless… well, he hoped it would be harmless. With those two, he figured, you never really knew._

_**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>** _

_Rita Skeeter was torn. Go with the kids on the train… and be trapped for the next five hours, or go to Hogsmeade ahead of them and try to get information from some of the Diagon Alley shopkeepers who had moved their operations there? She didn’t have very long to decide. Rita had never been indecisive before, but going on the train was a real risk. If she got caught, she had nowhere to go, nowhere to retreat to for safety. If she went to Hogsmeade, she might waste five hours._

_Finally, she made a run for the train, transforming in mid-run, to try to catch it. Unfortunately, she was just a second or two late, and the train picked up speed and huffed its way out of the station. Oh well. Shit. She knew she’d have to go back to her office and get their port-key creator to make her a portkey bound for Hogsmeade. She didn’t have anything like the power necessary to Apparate there by herself, and there was no way that she’d stoop to going ‘muggle’ and flying there on one of their horrible airplanes. It was going to be a long afternoon, and she had no idea whether anything would come of the effort. Sometimes being a reporter sucks, she thought to herself, as she prepared her mind for Apparition._

_**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>** _

**Camden Catacombs – Beneath Stables Market, Camden, UK, same day**

Mundungus Fletcher was a coward at heart, which meant that he was very careful with his physical safety. He always carried a couple of illicitly obtained portkeys, as well as other things, like Peruvian Darkness Powder, and Forgetfulness gas, which he kept bound up in spelled glass spheres that could be made to break when a certain code-word was spoken.

As a thief, he had pretty much always been on the wrong side of the law, from about age 8 onwards. From the moment he learned about the true nature of magic and the necessity of will to make it go, he was stealing things. Most of the time, he got caught, which earned him his father’s ire sufficiently that by age 11 (Hogwarts), he was thrown out of the family.

It hadn’t taken him long to fall in with the wrong sort. Fagin led a band of thieves, pickpockets, fencers, and petty smugglers (mostly boys, but with a few girls as well) in and around London. He had never been a particularly good or particularly clever leader, but the man could sing! and he often did so, much to the boys’ appreciation and entertainment. For a moment, he was overcome with a sad but also happy memory of the song that they would have to sing in order to get into their private retreat. _So long, cheerio, and be back soon...._ He didn’t even realize that there were tears flowing down his face, as he thought about the life gone to shit and the relative innocence, as well as happiness, that had been his when he was young. Angrily wiping his face, Mundungus tried to put away his emotions, but found that it was much harder than he wanted it to be. Something had come creeping into his life that eventually effects all people, regret, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

His reverie might have continued, if not for the voice that pierced the darkness. “Ay, mate. Where are you?”

At least, that’s what Mundungus thought he said, but the Manchester accent of the man’s voice was so thick that you could cut it only with a stout cheese-knife. “Ach. Here, mate” Mundungus called out. “Throw a light? There’s a good lad” the voice said.

Mundungus struggled to cast anything much more stringent than a _Lumos_ most days, since the Fire-Whiskey had taken most of his memory as well as magic. For whatever reason though, he was able to flick off the charm without much thinking about it, and that surprised him.

The light flared strong in the dank, dark, abandoned tunnel, and it cast shadows everywhere.

“Ach! Too much!”

The light from the wand dimmed and the man seemed to ease back. “Better. My eyes.. not young anymore.”

“You got the stash?”

“Aye. You got the quid?”

Mundungus hefted a bag in front of the man. It clinked satisfactorily. “Better all be there.”

“It is.”

“Show me the goods.”

Carefully, the man took a bag from inside his cloak and laid it on the rocky ground. He slid the contents from it. From the bag came a wand and a man’s ring. Dropping to his knees, which wasn’t easy, the thief muttered one charm after another; all learned by rote, so that he couldn’t fuck them up for this important moment.

The final charm caused a blue field to form around the wand and the hazy sigle of the House of Dumbledore to rise from the ring. Satisfied that they were genuine, Mundungus scooped them up, tucked them away, and then poured the entire contents of the bag he was carrying into the man’s hands. There was a lot of gold. So much so that it took almost two minutes to empty the back. The man grinned, cast his own spell, Accio!, and all of the gold flowed into his bag, where it would be come lightweight again and ready to travel.

“I was never here, lad. Best you forget about me.” The older, gruffer man said, before casting his cloak about him and disappearing the way he had come.

As for Mundungus, he took a soda-top from his pocket, whispered a single world, and disappeared into a blue-white vortex of magic.

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	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John Major explains his problem and Cornelius Fudge meets some colleagues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pursuant to the [Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988](https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/100/hr4262/text) and the [Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, 17 U.S.C. §§ 512, 120 1–1 205](https://www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/text/17/512), this work is copyrighted 2019 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion, or hosted on any website, without the express written and notarized permission of the author. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2003, to whom I am deeply indebted. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, and Arthur A. Levine Books, Inc., a division of Scholastic Press, Inc., © 2003. I make no money from any of this. WHATEVER CREATIVE MATERIAL IS LEFT IS MINE.
> 
> CONTENT Disclaimer: This story may contain sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein.

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**Dawn’s New Light  
Book II  
Chapter 14  
By ‘the_scribbler’  
[ (at) shadowgard (d*t) com](mailto:the_scribbler@shadowgard.com)**

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**From Chapter 13…**

**September 3rd, 1993 – Prime Minister’s Office, Downing Street, London.**

There was nothing more chaotic than a meeting of the Cabinet, called at the last moment, and there was also nothing more secure, since not one of the Ministers had had time to leak to the press the contents of the meeting.

This meeting, though, was going to be played under different rules. Each Minister was given a copy of the Official Secrets Act of 1989, with portions of it highlighted in yellow. Each minister was then asked to sign a document acknowledging that he or she had received a copy of the Act and understood that he or she was bound by its provisions.

The ministers gathered in the Cabinet Room, at #10 Downing Street, without benefit of staff, notepads, phones, or anything else. There were no cameras present at all, in fact. That was unusual enough for several of the ministers to remark upon it. When the Prime Minister entered, all stood, and waited for him to take his seat. When he did so, he bade them all sit.

“Thank you all for getting here so quickly. I have called this meeting because we now must discuss something that I had hoped, when I was sworn into this office, never to have to disclose to any of you.”

This immediately caused the ministers who surrounded him to look at him more closely, so that they could see whether there were any signs of illness, etc. When none of them saw anything out of the ordinary, their internal monologues started running rampant and it was for that reason that he had to wrest back their attention to the meeting.

“Each of you has signed the Official Secrets Act form. You all know that violating the terms of the Act will see you in the Queens’ jail, in solitary, for the rest of your lives, correct?”

If he didn’t have their attention previously, he had it now, and in full. “I have to discuss with you all, today, because it is only fair and prudent to not leave any of you out of this information, the true nature of the world and our place in it.”

Oh shit, many of them thought. There are aliens. They were both right and wrong, of course. “Many of you are learned in ways that I can’t even fathom. You’ve had education that, frankly, far exceeds my own. You’re smart. All of you, or else you wouldn’t be here. However, none of you sit in my chair, and so not one of you has been given the information that I was given the day that I was sworn in. Only two other people in the country, and I use that term carefully now, know what I’m about to tell you. Unfortunately, once you know, you know, and you’ll carry the burden of it for the rest of your lives. You will go to your graves with this information, because if you don’t, we will make sure you do. That’s how serious what I’m about to tell you is, for our current situation and for the entire country. Now, having said all of that, if any of you wish to leave now, you will be excused, with no prejudice. I will thank you for your service and dismiss you from the Cabinet, with full stipend. Does anyone wish to not carry this burden?”

John Major waited. Finally, both a man and woman rose, walked over to him, shook his hand, and left. Once they were gone, he looked up and down each side of the long, oval table. “Anyone else?”

When it became apparent that two was the limit of the number of people wishing to opt out of the responsibilities, the PM said, “Funny. I thought there might be more. Oh well. You’re all made of stern stuff. You all agree that you will carry this to your graves?” Everyone nodded. “Good. Now, let me tell you that the reason for this meeting, at the outset, is that we are currently at war. It’s a civil war, and we are losing.”

There was a collective intake of breath and then a loud explosion of sound, as everyone tried to be heard at once. John Major had to pound the table a number of times to restore order and to be heard. “Gentleman! For God’s sake, SHUT UP. We’re never going to get through all that we have to talk about today if you keep doing that.”

Each of the remaining ministers looked at him sheepishly and quietly apologized, which he accepted with a nod. “Now, how is it, I’m sure you’re wondering, that we’re in a civil war and there hasn’t been a shot fired? Well, it’s because guns are not what the enemy is using. They’re using Magic.”

This led to another outburst, but one somewhat more reserved. When Major got them calmed down again, he continued, “Yes. Magic. That’s the secret you’re going to carry with you. It’s real and it’s all around us. There are more than one hundred ten thousand magic users, wizards and witches, in the United Kingdom. They have been here for the last six thousand years, at least, and you’ve probably met at least one in your lifetimes. Most of them are good people. However, there are some that are exceedingly dangerous. Most of those are evil, but some of them are ‘good’, but I use that term guardedly, and you’ll understand why that is in a few minutes.

Right now, the magical government here in the United Kingdom, has at least one faction that has declared itself to be at war with us. And that faction is, unfortunately, winning. They have killed our agents, destroyed our computer systems, compromised our government in ways we can’t even measure right now, and contrived to take land right out from underneath us. They have destroyed six of our most secret Rhyolite KH-11 series satellites – the ones we built and operate in conjunction with the Yanks. They have blinded us to more than half the world. Fortunately, they’ve destroyed, we think, eight of the Russians’ satellites, of the same or comparable class. That has put the Russians out to the tune of fifty to sixty billion dollars.

Worse, they forced me to give up more than five thousand square miles in Scotland to their control. Now, we don’t believe that that incident was related to the overall rebellion, but it put the magicals of Great Britain in a much stronger position, and there is nothing I can do about it. I’m sure you’ve all heard, even as apocrypha, stories of people going north to Scotland, only to find themselves somehow wandering aimlessly in the woods, unable to find their destination?”

There were nods all around. “Well, the reason for that is that a magical barrier, called a ward… much like the shields from the T.V show 'Star Trek'. Well, that ward repels people who aren’t magical and makes them wander away, unable to find what they were looking for and unable to move forward. There is no way to penetrate that ward. It was laid down by the most powerful witch on the planet, using her own blood – and that apparently makes a great deal of difference, for some reason – and now no one can cross it who is not magical. Though we know roughly where the area is, there are magics that further hide it. The more intensely we search for it, the more completely it disappears to us. It’s no longer viewable from space, since our satellites are missing. It is not approachable by ship, or by train, or by horse, or anything else. It is an almost perfect protection.”

“If we know roughly where they are, let’s drop a god-damned nuke on it and call it a day!” One minister shouted.

John Major had known, from the moment that he had planned this meeting, that there would be this kind of reaction, so he sat back and let them shout themselves out. It took almost twenty minutes for the din to die down. When it did, he looked around. “I knew that was going to be the reaction. Have you all got out of your systems now?”

More or less all of them nodded, sheepishly. At the PM’s signal, a man and a woman started distributing manila folders, with pictures inside. When they were done, he said, “If you open the folders, you will see a field, in southern Norway, where there is a field littered with meteors. Whole, intact meteors. Some of them exceed ninety meters in length and our best guess is that they weigh somewhere between nine thousand and twenty seven thousand tons. You’ll see that the meteors are lined in neat rows?”

“You mean, sir, that this is real?” asked the Secretary of State for Health and Social Care.

“Yes, unfortunately, it is. I could take you there, if any of us dared intrude.”

“John – what in God’s Hell do you mean, “If any of us dared?”

John Major didn’t smile at his Secretary of State, but nor did he turn an angry eye his way. “Let me say this to all of you, because it is relevant.”

They all paused the conversations that had sprung up between them. “The pictures you’re looking at were taken during the last year. These are meteors that were pulled down from space by the two witches who are living here in the United Kingdom. The reason, as if I needed one, that we haven’t “dropped a Nuke on the place” and be done with it is because the two witches in question, the ones living in Scotland right now, could do the same to us. Only, they would be using meteors. I am told reliably that each one of those that you see in the pictures would destroy London and everything within a fifteen mile radius. That is why we have a problem.

The Americans call this situation, “Mutually Assured Destruction… M.A.D.” and surely, that’s exactly what it is. Only, they and at least some of the people in the magical world, can kill without a trace. They can disarm soldiers with a wave of a wand. They can become invisible. They can move thousands of miles by the power of a thought. If you turn to the second group of photos in the folder, you will see time-lapse footage of the arrival of one of the witches, her name is Harley Janel Ross, by the way, and you will see the soldiers in my office disarmed and rendered unconscious in the blink of an eye. We timed it and the best that we can figure, it took about two tenths of a second for her will to become action. There is no system we know that can beat that.”

The Ministers around the table looked at the photos. Several remarked on how beautiful the young woman was.

“Mr. Prime Minister… just how old is the young woman in the photo?”

John smiled, but humorlessly. “She was twelve when these photos were taken.”

This caused no end of consternation and no small amount of vitriol about having been outdone by a tween. When it settled down, as it eventually had to do, John Major resumed his narrative. “Yes, she was twelve in those photos. She recently turned 13. And that’s part of the problem. We are pretty sure, based on my previous interactions with her, that she’s not the one who has declared war on us. First, she has no express reason to do so, to me or anyone else. Second, she really doesn’t have an antagonistic bone in her whole body…. Except where her wife is concerned, but we’ll get to that in a moment. Harley just wants to be left alone. She’s made some mistakes, but they weren’t made because she’s cruel or vindictive, but rather because she’s young, inexperienced, and just coming into her powers.”

John stopped and waited. He knew the question was coming, so he sat until it did. It was the same woman, the Secretary for Health and Social Care again.

“Yes. Her wife. And before any of you get going on the homophobia, let me tell you that apparently, the magicals have a significant leg up on us in this regard. They don’t have anything like the crippling homophobia or bigotry in their society that we have in ours. Now, many of you, I’m sure, heard that desperate cry of Hermione! A while back. Quite the upset that caused. I know, for myself, that I sat and cried then and tried to process the terror and the sadness that swept through me when I heard that name in my head.”

John looked around. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room, which really surprised him. Apparently, his Ministers had souls after all. “You all surprise me. I thought at least some of you might be more callous than all that. I’m delighted to see I was wrong. It speaks well of all of you.”

He paused, to give them all a chance to collect themselves before he dove back in. “Harley’s wife’s name is… Hermione. And I’ll let that sink in for a moment. Harley has so much power that every single person on Earth heard her cry that day. Are we clear on that? Every Single Person. Now, the particulars of the story are very closely held. If we have time, I will tell you all the story, as best as I remember it, when we’re finished. Let me just say this. I’ve met Hermione. I’ve seen her and Harley together. I was prepared to feel any number of negative feelings towards them, but I can’t. Harley’s love for Hermione runs so deep that it is inexpressible, and vice-versa. They are incredibly beautiful together. The reason that I tell you that is that Harley’s warning to me was and continues to be… Leave Hermione Alone. Period, full stop. Leave Hermione Alone. If we do that, we’re good. If we don’t do that…. Well, the fires of Hell, as I understand them, will be rained down on us in ways we cannot imagine. Harley will kill us all, and maybe every non-magical Britain that she can find. She will make every butcher, every tyrant that we have ever faced seem pale and polite in comparison.”

“Can we kill her?” Asked her Minster of Defense.

John Major rubbed his face and then looked at the man. “If you weren’t critical to our country in this very moment, I’d have you taken outside and shot, right now, for such a dumb fucking question. Did you not hear me when I said that they are the two most powerful witches on the planet? Were you not paying attention to the photos? These two girls do things that make anything we’ve done look like small parlor tricks. I’m convinced that hurting or killing Harley Ross is a ticket to Hell. Hermione literally brought me the heads of two wizards that she killed, because the Naval Chief of Staff put a contract out on her and it pissed her off. She dumped the heads on my desk. I don’t even want to think about what she would do if someone went after Harley. And on that point, and I’m making this official, NO ONE in this room, nor any person working for you, is authorized to do anything untoward to these two young women. Not only would you be sacrificing your own life, but you might take all of us with you. SO… again, NO ONE is authorized even to dream violent dreams in their general direction. Are we absolutely clear on that?”

When not enough of them gave him so much as a polite acknowledgement, John Major rose, and slammed the table with both hands and practically screamed at them. “ARE WE CLEAR ON THAT?” That got their attention and their forceful acknowledgements.

John Major had hoped to avoid this, but he didn’t see how he could now. “Minister Fudge? Would you please reveal yourself?”

The Minister for Magic pulled off his cloak of Invisibility and stepped forward. “Thank you, Cornelius. I am truly sorry for the dunderheads that I lead.”

Cornelius looked at him and then shrugged. “We all have our burdens, John.”

Turning to the assembled Ministers, the PM said, “This is the Minister for Magic, and your estimable colleague. Though he has never attended one of our meetings, he is a Minister of this nations’ government, in good standing and a man I am proud to call a friend. He is also a trained Magical Engineer, which makes him both rare and special in his world. He can do in a week what would take us five years or better, including building a stadium to house more than one hundred thousand spectators, without people on our side ever catching so much as a whiff of its existence.”

Cornelius Fudge was truly chuffed to receive such a warm and thorough welcome from the PM. “Thank you, Mr. Prime Minister. For that, you will get your tickets to the next World Quidditch Match Final!”

John wasn’t as well versed in the sport as he knew he needed to be, but he said, “I look forward to it. You’re buying the first Fire Whiskey though!”

The rest of the Ministers looked on and listened to the banter between the two men in shock. They hadn’t expected this at all. 

Turning back to the table, the PM said, “Cornelius and I have become good friends. So far, he has put down two civil wars on his side and wants to help us with our situation, or at least find a way to end it. He knows that I can’t take back the land that I ceded to them and that truly, I don’t want to. He has also agreed to help with today’s situation, which is that some of you are still struggling to believe everything that I’ve told you. I know. It’s a lot to swallow. So, to fix that, we’re doing to have a short demonstration. Then we will do some talking and you can ask him questions. Some of which, I am sure, he will not be able to answer, but I am sure that he will be as candid with you as possible. So, having said that, Cornelius, it’s your show.”

Cornelius Fudge was momentarily at a loss to know what to say to this group of no-mags’ since, like all things, he suddenly had to recognize and acknowledge that they knew things that he didn’t and that their experiences were just as valid as his, only different. “Well, hello. As you probably understand by now, I’m the Minister for Magic. I’m appointed by the Magical parliament here in the Kingdom. It’s called the Wizengamot. Don’t ask me to explain that word. I can’t.” This provoked some laughter around the table and that set Cornelius more at ease. “The PM asked me to come, very much at the last moment, and said that he needed to make sure that all of you are made to understand the truth of what he has said and the situation that we’re facing, because for better or worse, we’re in this together. I do not know who has been attacking your government’s facilities, but I’m going to find out, and I will do what I can do to put a stop to it.”

He paused for a second and thought about what he needed to say next. He was very unused to working in this kind of situation and it was disconcerting. “Let me start at the beginning and try to give you all some context.” And he did so. For more than forty-five minutes, he spoke about the history of Magical Britain, about Hogwarts, about ritual magic, about wands, and about things like running water and ultra-efficient indoor plumbing, a thousand years before it was available in most homes in London. He spoke about the good and the bad in magic, about some of the things that were possible. Finally he started in on the current situation. “… and so now we have a situation unlike anything we’ve ever faced before. Two young women, married to each other, are the new magical leaders in our country. Together, they represent more magical and political power than any two people since Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin, more than a thousand years ago. The PM spoke about them to you earlier and he said that they have eyes only for each other, and that… how did you describe them, John?”

“I said that Harley’s love for Hermione runs so deep that it is inexpressible, and vice-versa. I also said that they are incredibly beautiful together.”

Cornelius nodded. “Yes, quite so. Actually, John, as usual, underplayed the situation. Harley and Hermione love each other so much that as a wizard, I can actually feel the magic that flows between them.”

“What does it feel like?”

Cornelius smiled and looked at the man who asked the question. “Have you ever felt a cat purr?”

The man nodded. “Of course.”

“Ok, it’s like that, only it’s so strong that you can feel it in a room when you’re twenty feet away from them. And it’s stronger than that. It’s wave after wave of magic, pushing against your own. We have a thing called Mage Sight. It allows the wizard or witch to see the glow of someone else’s magic. Most wizards and witches? It’s like looking at one of your light-bulbs when it’s on. You can look at it directly. But with Harley and Hermione, if you tried that, you’d be instantly blinded. They glow so brightly that with mage-sight, they’re visible like the Sun for more than a mile. You can’t look at them directly. That’s how brightly they shine with power.”

He was interrupted by a woman from the other end of the table. “And you say, Minister Fudge, that there’s never been a female pair of Magi like this before?”

“No Ma’am. Harley and Hermione are unique in all the world.”

“And you say, Minister Fudge, that basically, they’re just young girls who want to be left alone?”

“Yes, and that’s where we seemed to have run into the current problem. They take an expansive view of what being left alone means. They really don’t like being watched, spied upon, by anyone. Apparently, they’ve taken to destroying your satellites because of this. It was my hope, and still is, that I can talk them out of doing that, but they really don’t like being watched, figuring that the magic that they cast is their business, and is not for governments of the world to remark upon or judge, in any way.”

“Prime Minister, is this why there’s no satellite over Scotland now?”

John Major nodded. “Yes. Harley or Hermione, we don’t know which, apparently tore it out of the sky or somehow disabled it beyond our ability to repair. It’s effectively dead.”

“But she’s not done that with any other satellites?” The Home Secretary asked.

“No. She doesn’t seem to care about anything else. Just the ones that take pictures, and only our big birds. She seems to have ignored the French SPOT satellites altogether.”

“But those aren’t as good, are they?”

“No, and I can’t get into specifics about those birds here in this meeting.” The PM said.

“Are they responsible for the loss of the bird over Algeria?” The Secretary for Defense asked.

“Yes, or at least we believe so. One of the girls, and we don’t know which, was pulling down meteors and dropping them into the Algerian desert for practice. When she was finished, she tore the satellite apart that was watching it happen.”

“So she’s a threat to the Triad?”

“Yes, if she wanted to be, though I can’t see anything like that happening unless we moved first, and we can all agree that that would be terminally stupid, as I outlined earlier.” John didn’t like the way the meeting had suddenly turned, so he tried to course-correct. “Cornelius, could you please show us now what it means to transfigure something? I want everybody to understand the practical side of what we’ve been discussing.”

Taking out his wand, Cornelius Fudge walked to the head of the room and smiled. “I’m going to do three transfigurations for you. One is inanimate-to-inanimate, the second will be inanimate-to-animate, and the third will be a hybrid. First, let me take the glass water pitcher and empty it. He did so by drawing the water up into a floating ball of water that simply hung in mid-air. That caused the people around the table to ooow and awwww. Then he took the empty glass pitcher and turned it into a glass swan, with frosted glass wings and delicately etched glass feathers. When he was finished with that, he caused the glass wings to grow and begin flapping, such that the swan flew around the room several times before landing where it had started. Finally, he transfigured it back into a pitcher and poured the floating ball of water back into it. Setting that down on the main table, he tapped the pitcher once with his wand and it grew delicate legs, which it used to walk down the table, stopping at each empty glass to fill it up with fresh water. When it had finished, it came back to stand right in front of Cornelius, the legs disappeared, it returned to its normal, inanimate self. The round of applause was almost thunderous, which caused Cornelius to blush with appreciation.

“That was righteous, Cornelius!” John Major exclaimed. “Truly wonderful. Thank you very, very much.”

Cornelius looked at him and for the first time in a very long time, the Minister for Magic really glowed with pride at being a wizard. “You’re welcome, John. Do you need me further?”

“Only to do that one thing we talked about, as insurance.”

Cornelius nodded. He looked around the room and said, “If you’d all please look at me for a moment.” They did so. “Very good. Thank you. Now, follow the tip of my wand. _Ego clausum secretum!”_

The tip of his wand glowed blue and a light shot out at each one of the people present, including the Prime Minister. “Thank you, Cornelius. Lunch Monday?”

“I’ll be there, John. Thank you.” And with that, Cornelius Fudge disappeared into magical black light.

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

“What just happened?” The Secretary of Defense said, almost petulantly.

“I had Cornelius lock the secret of the existence of Magic into your souls. You’ll know about it, be able to think about it, even write about it, but only to yourself. You’ll not be able to communicate it to anyone else who wasn’t here today. Think of it as an insurance measure that keeps you out of Her Majesty’s jail.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I can and I did. You see, I’m just as impacted by the spell as you are. He locked the secret in my soul too. This protects all of us. I know that feels unfair or unreasonable, but it makes sure that all decisions regarding the existence of Magic are made by all of us, sitting here, right now. Together, we rise or fall, on this issue. What we do, we do for the Kingdom, together.”

“But I have people to command! I have to give orders!”

“We all know that, Admiral, and we appreciate the position you are in… but remember, the military answers to three people. You, Me, and Her Majesty. They simply have to trust us to do the right thing and not question our orders. That’s it. Remember that I answer to all of you and to the people of this country. I answer to Parliament, if it comes to that. Our job, collectively, is to do the right thing. I suspect that in this case, that’s going to mean finding a way to end this civil war before it turns hot. We have to count on Cornelius, and we have to count on the good will of two young women and hope that somehow, we can work out a solution.”

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**< ><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**September 4th, 1993 – Hogwarts**

The Girls’ 4th year dorm at Hogwarts was more spacious and more appointed than any dorm room that either Harley or Hermione had yet seen. They had proper Chests of Drawers for their clothes and closets in which to hang things. The showers were human car-washes, with multiple shower-heads and sized to fit at least two people. Each girl had her own sink and set of shelves for personal-care items, and each bed had an accompanying night-stand.

The bed that Harley and Hermione had decided to share seemed bigger than a standard queen, but smaller than a king, which was fine, because there was plenty of room for it, since the ‘second’ bed had up and disappeared. Hermione marveled at the fact that Hogwarts herself seemed to know exactly what was needed and could make adjustments on the fly.

The one thing that Hermione found disappointing was that they didn’t have a fireplace of their own in the large room. When she asked about it, the Head Girl said, “You don’t need it. You’re half-way up the tower now. Heat rises from below. You’ll be plenty warm in the winter, I promise.”

Hermione doubted that, as she was always just a little bit cold in the Winter, being so thin, and always appreciated a warm fireplace. She also appreciated the warm body that occupied her bed at night. Harley was a warm water-bottle that Hermione could snuggle up against, to keep away any chill.

One thing that was both new and awesome was that there was a samovar on top of a heavy oak table, where they could pour tea in the morning. There was a brass dish into which could be put magical fire and a four-legged stand above it so that the samovar could rest on it and catch all of the heat from the magical fire. There were tins of loose tea, a bowl with lumps of sugar, and a carafe of milk, which she assumed was kept magically chilled. It was a nice set-up. She wondered if the boys had anything like it, but then laughed when she thought about them trying to make tea properly or clean up after themselves. Most of them seemed pretty hopeless. Not Neville, perhaps, but most of the others.

Thinking of Neville caught her up short, since he was on the very short list of boys that both she and Harley wanted to bring to their bed for more ‘play’. Draco had been an immensely good choice as their first boy, both because he was so gentle and because their joint magic seemed to like him a great deal. Hermione was sure that Neville would be good for them as well and that he would be gentle as well.

Cho was high on the list, of course, as was Fay Dunbar, Lavender Brown, and Hannah Abbot, if they could convince her. She thought that it was pretty likely that within a year or two, Ginny Weasley might also be on the list, depending on where she was in terms of her budding relationship with Luna Lovegood. Those two fluttered around each other every day and Hermione wondered how long it might take them for to recognize what they were feeling for each other.

Hermione looked around. The dorm-room was quiet, since everyone else was outside, either flying, practicing magic, practicing Quidditch, catching some sun, or just hanging out with friends. Harley was…flying. She smiled. She could feel her wife’s happiness. Realizing that there wasn’t anything else to do, Hermione stripped completely and put on her very tiny bikini. It was white, which set off her beautiful brown hair and brown eyes. The bikini-bottom was nothing more than a couple of small triangles sewn together, tied together at her waist, and the top was similar. Hermione closed her eyes and teleported herself outside the tower, and immediately began falling, until she used her magic to take control and start flying. It was exhilarating! and she whooped for joy as she spread her arms and flew to where she could see Harley playing catch… with the Kraken.

As she got closer, she could see that Harley was manipulating a giant, round, green blob of what looked like congealed seaweed. Every time it came close to her, she’d dive down and actually catch it… or at least, stop its forward progress and put hands on it, before sending it flying back to the Kraken. It wasn’t until the fourth back-and-forth that Harley missed and the seaweed ball went splashing down into the water. Harley hung her head and then summoned, from somewhere, a massive tuna. The fish was very much alive and flopping, but Harley’s magic was solid and inescapable. She magically dragged the Tuna through the air, until she reached the Kraken and it was at that point when Hermione began to tremble a bit. The Kraken rose out of the water to its full height… more than 300 feet high, and used one of its massive tentacles to take the fish from Harley.

To Hermione’s amazement, Harley flew up close the massive creature and touched it on one part if its face. Somehow, they seemed to communicate, and to her amazement, the Kraken very gently wrapped a tentacle around Harley’s waist and drew her in close. Harley reached her arms out and hugged the creature, to the best she could, before it released her and she flew back to where Hermione was hovering in mid-air.

Harley was dressed, if you could call it that, in a very revealing one-piece black bathing-suit. There wasn’t much to the top and the back was a very tiny triangle that met high on her waist at either side. She looked sexy as hell. She looked her wife up and down and it was clear that she loved what she saw. So much so that she used her tongue to lick her eyebrows.

“Fuck, love! You make me wet every time you do that!” Hermione whispered to her as they ground their bodies together in mid-air.

“I know. That’s why I do it.” Harley whispered back, as she reached down and cupped Hermione’s ass with both hands. She could feel her wife’s buttplug and knew, because she was wearing one too, how turned on it made Hermione.

The good thing was that they were more than 300 feet in the air, which effectively hid what they were doing. No one was around, which Harley thought was funny, but everyone else thought was prudent, since a 300 ft. high creature-from-their-nightmares wasn’t your normal afternoon playmate… unless you are a Magi who’s not afraid of much of anything. “I love you, Harley.” “Love you too. Come sit on my face?”

The thought of kneeling above her wife, leaning against the headboard, while getting pleasured, made her nipples instantly hard and her breathing quicken even more. “Yes, please.” She said. ****

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Two hours later, Harley looked down at her quietly sleeping wife, and felt a rush of love and desire that made her almost vibrate with joy. “I love you so much” Harley said in a whisper to her wife’s sleeping form. All around the room, invisible, were more than three dozen Ross house elves. They had been drawn in by their Mistresses’ powerful feelings and vibrating magic. Harley knew they were there, but didn’t worry about it. She knew that Ross and Potter elves were sworn to such a level of secrecy that nothing that they ever saw was discussed, except between themselves, and only then when they were not in the company of elves outside the family. Sitting up though, she said, “C’mere, all of you. Make yourselves visible, please.” And they did. Forty of them.

“You know that I told Dobby that his only responsibility is to protect Hermione. I’m telling you all as well. Protect Hermione. Even if it’s the last thing you do. Protect her at any cost, ok? No matter what you have to do, I will support and protect you. No one will ever hurt you for protecting Hermione. Understand?”

They all nodded. “Now c’mere, so I can hug all of you.”

Elves are not generally shy by nature, but many that Harley and Hermione had rescued and bonded with had been abused by their former masters and mistresses, making them more careful about such things. They knew that ‘the Great Mistress Harley’ was gentle… well, except with those people who threatened the Great Mistress Hermione of course, so they all piled in and got hugs, one at a time. When she had hugged them all, she made the universal sign for quiet, waved her hand to kill off the lights, and snuggled in next to the girl she loved most in the whole world.

****

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**Saturday, September 25th – Hogsmeade Village Center – Noon**

The Mayor of Hogsmeade looked around from where he stood on the stage and practically quivered with excitement. The Village had grown by almost 400% since the acquisition of the new territory by the Ladies Ross and he was leader of what was becoming the center of all magic in the United Kingdom. It was a heady responsibility! He had a police-force that now rivaled the DMLE in London. Gringotts had moved its operations from London to Hogsmeade and the white marble bank-building sparkled in the noon-day sun.

All of the vendors from Diagon Alley had closed up shop in London and moved to Hogsmeade, with the exception of some of the seediest, since so many of their businesses depended on the low-lifes among the squib population in London and its surrounds. It was also unlikely that the Vampires would leave London, since the hunting was just too good and too easy to give up willingly.

The rich and well-to-do had bought many of the best locations in and around the hills that surrounded Hogsmeade. Some, like the Malfoys, were unwilling to give up their very secure homes in the countryside, but had bought plush townhouses near the center of Hogsmeade. That included Harley and Hermione. They commissioned a home near the town-center, on a piece of property that had been in the family for almost a 1000 years, but had gone largely unused. Unlike most of the other townhouses, it sat on a full half-acre of property (1/5 of a hectare). That alone set it apart. The other thing that set it apart was the ridiculously complex warding system that protected it. It simply wasn’t there, unless you actually knew about the property, and even if you did, you still had to be keyed into the wards, lest they kill you.

The nine people who knew about it: Sirius, Isabelle, Remus, Hermione, Harley, Ragnok, Ear-Chewer, and the Mayor of Hogsmeade, thought it was a grand, lovely property and one that would be lovely, long-term home for the girls as they became adults and formalized their relationship. Hermione’s one great sadness was that Hogsmeade would be off-limits to her extended family, all of whom were non-magical. She would have to leave the safety and security of the magical lands in order to see them and that was becoming more and more of a risk, since the non-magical governments seemed more and more intent on finding her and interrogating her, which was something she could not and would not allow.

This day though was one for celebration. They were going to banish the remaining parts of Tom Riddle’s soul into the Sun, where the immense heat would destroy the crystal utterly and condemn the dork lard to the fires of Hell. There was a large, white platform, with rows of seats on it, and a resplendent podium front and center, from which speakers could command the audiences’ attention. Harley and Hermione were seated in the front row, just to the right of the podium. Next to them were Sirius, Harley’s mother Isabelle, The Mayor of the town Jameson Fitzwizing, the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, King Ragnok of the Dverger, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and to round out the group, William Telliwelling, who was head of the newly-formed Hogsmeade Business Council. Since it was her show, nominally, Harley rose to speak. She was more nervous than she had ever been, to the point where she thought that she was going to throw up at any moment. Speaking in front of adults was not and never had been her favorite thing to do and she wondered how the Hell she had gotten herself into such a situation. Hermione knew that Harley was nervous, and there was only one thing that she could do about it. As Harley passed her, on the way to the podium, Hermione stood and pulled her close. “I love you. Remember that.”

Harley looked at her wife and nodded. She was too wound up to really say anything. She’d rather be fighting dragons Hermione thought, as she watched Harley organize her papers on the podium. Looking out, Harley realized that the crowd had to be larger than ten thousand, which was one of the largest audiences that the magical world could muster, outside of a world- finals Quidditch match. She gripped the podium and felt a wave of nausea sweep through her.

“Ah…. Hello. I… well, I’ve not done this before and frankly, I’d rather be fighting a dragon than speaking to all of you.” That earned a wave of laughter and smiles from the crowd, which gave Harley momentary pause. She hadn’t thought it was that funny. Looking down at her paper, she saw the word SMILE!, which she tried to do. Taking a deep breath, Harley tried to center herself, just like she had taught her classmates in DADA. It an extent, it worked. She looked out and saw flags of House Ross and House Potter and that made her feel better. It was like being among friends…. and she was. She knew that, but it’s one thing to talk about speaking to so many people and actually doing it.

“I.. thank you. We’re here today because a very good man helped me, no… helped all of us, by finally putting paid to Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr. Some of you knew him as “Lord Voldemort” … but he was no lord at all. That was a name he made up as a young man at Hogwarts. If you don’t believe me, take his full name and rearrange it. Go ahead. Do it. You’ll see that I’m right. It spells “I am Lord Voldemort”. So the name’s a stupid anagram and nothing more.”

Doing that much seemed to break the back of the tension that was in the crowd when Harley mentioned the Dork Lard’s name. Many in the audience were now smiling and Harley could see that. “I’m glad that so many of you recognize it. The Dork Lard, as I liked to call him, thought himself all-powerful, because he found a way to temporarily cheat death. And I say temporarily because the method that he used was an abomination and has never, ever worked for long, since it was discovered in ancient Egypt, more than five thousand years ago. You’ll notice that we’re not overrun with immortal dark lords, right?” This caused more people to smile and nod. They could see the plain truth of what she was saying.

“Now, there is a very, very good man, and his wife, who helped me… helped us put paid to Tom Riddle. He collected the last of the dork lard’s soul-pieces, which he was using to try to make himself immortal, and vacuumed them up into a gem.” Harley reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box. She tapped it her wand and it grew into the Gringotts box that Lucius had presented her with at her birthday. Reaching in, she extracted the gem and held it high, so that everyone could see it. Some of the more observant saw that Harley was wearing a Dragon-hide glove to hold the gem. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is what’s left of Tom Riddle. My friend, my supporter and mentor, trapped the bastard and today, we are going to banish this gem into the Sun, where it will be destroyed; ending Tom Riddle forever, and sending him to the Hell he so richly deserves.”

Harley put the gem back into the box and then, very carefully, returned the lid to the box, before stripping off the glove. Once the box was safely shrunk down, she put it back into her inside pocket, so that no one could get to it before the time was right. “Now, I’m just a school-girl, so I’m going to let others speak, who know better things to say to you all. Thank you for being here, so that we can celebrate today together.”

With that, Harley turned away from the podium and walked, ever so gingerly, back to her seat, before she all but collapsed from nerves. The next to speak was the Mayor of Hogsmeade and it was during his speech that Harley almost fell asleep. Hermione giggled as she heard her wife beginning to snore; especially after she met Sirius’ and Isabelle’s eyes. Hermione could see that they thought it funny as hell that their daughter/god-daughter, the most powerful witch on the planet, was struggling to stay awake.

After the Mayor spoke, it was William Telliwelling’s turn to speak. Hermione even struggled with consciousness during his speech, as the man was as exciting to listen to as white paint was to watch dry. Eventually though, it was King Ragnok’s turn to speak and Harley, Hermione, and Isabelle sat up straight and listened to every word. What he had to say was important, and significant, since it was the first time that the King of the European Dverger had spoken in public to an all-magical, all-wizarding audience, ever. When he was finished, Sirius, Isabelle, Harley, and Hermione jumped to their feet and started clapping, which caused the rest of the audience to do so as well. As Lord Ragnok passed them, the four fell to their knees, in recognition of his power in their lives. He quickly bid them rise, but the photos had been taken and would be the top-of-the-fold news all over the magical world the next day.

It would be days later when the true reason for their obedience to the King of the Dverger would come out, and that too would be top-of-the-fold.

The last person to speak before the ceremonial destruction of the Dork Lard was the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Unlike Harley, Cornelius was well used to the sound of his own voice and seemed to like it, because he was capable (everyone knew) of very long-winded speeches. This day though, Cornelius seemed to be more sensitive to what was going on, or maybe was just so shocked by the presence of King Ragnok that he, too, was ready to keep things short.

Removing his traditional bowler hat, Cornelius sat it on the seat beside him and then stood to address the crowd. “King Ragnok, Mayor Fitzwizing, Lord and Lady Malfoy, Headmaster Black and Lady Black, Lady Harley Ross, Lady Dagworth-Ross, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for inviting me to be a part of this event. I have to admit that I am at a loss to know the proper thing to say. The Ladies Ross are correct in calling this one of the momentous days in our history. It is the day when we finally get to put to rest a chapter that has plagued us since the early 1970’s. Today, the Ladies Ross will banish into the sun the remaining pieces of Tom Riddles’ fetid, evil soul. They will send him to the Hell he so richly deserves and by so doing, lift that miasma that has sat, like an evil cloud, over all of our lives.

Now, you are all wondering how this came about. Well, it is a story that goes back to the first days of schooling for the Ladies Ross. It turns out that Tom Riddle had found a way, though he was just a roaming, evil spirit, to inhabit the body and soul of an innocent man: Quirinius Quirrell, who was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. What Tom Riddle didn’t know was that The Lady Harley Ross had been born as a young boy named Harry Potter. Now you all know this story. Lily and James Potter defied Tom Riddle on three separate occasions and because of that, were very high on his list of people to kill. Now Lily and James had a son, Harry, who was not quite 18 months old at the time, when Tom came knocking that forth and fateful time. The Potters had been betrayed by Peter Pettigrew, who had been a friend to both James and Lily and to Headmaster Black. Peter was the Potter’s secret-keeper and though none of them knew it, was a Death-Eater.

Peter gave up the secret of the Potter’s location to Riddle and he, Riddle, went and murdered the Potters… but something happened that night. No one is sure exactly what, but it’s thought that Lily had done some kind of ritual sacrifice, to protect her son’s soul. Now, that’s astonishing magic all by itself, but it was even more amazing because it was made manifest in Harley years later, when she shook hands with Quirinius that first day of class. The Dork Lard, as Harley called him, didn’t know who Harley had been, those many years before, and didn’t realize that he, Riddle, was vulnerable to Lily’s sacrificial magic.

Well, not knowing cost him his safety. Harley’s touch, carrying all of Lily’s love and protective power, burned Quirinius down where he stood and drove Tom Riddle’s spirit right out of him. Unfortunately, it drove his spirit right into Harley herself. Now, what no one has known until today was that Harley was carrying around a piece of Tom Riddle’s evil soul. Harley had a terrible lightning-bolt shaped scar that was left over from the night that Riddle killed her parents, Lily and James, and tried to kill her too. Everyone knows that Tom Riddle’s body was found that night, blasted to bits. What no one knew, until this very moment, was that Riddle’s soul was sundered again and a piece of him tried to worm its way into Lily’s son, whom we all know now as Harley Ross. Life seeks life, you see, and Lily’s sacrifice was such that it turned Riddle’s killing-curse against him in a very powerful way. It tore into what was left of Riddle’s soul, seeking but failing to destroy it utterly. But… Lily’s magic was protective and kept Riddle’s soul-fragment, the one that was torn off the night that he attacked them, at bay for almost nine years. That is, until Harley came to Hogwarts and encountered Quirinius Quirrell.

We surmise that Riddle’s evil soul, encountering Harley, ripped that piece free of her and caused it to be re-incorporated into the main… well, ‘body’ I suppose, but that’s not the right word, I’m sure. Lady Ross is now and has been since that day, free of the taint of Riddle’s soul and for that, we are incredibly grateful.

Now we’ve come full circle. All of Riddle’s other soul-pieces have been found and gathered up, or destroyed already. Part of the reason that King Ragnok is here is that he led his people in a mighty purge and destroyed, at a very high cost to the Dverger Horde, two of Riddle’s soul-fragments, which had been put into Founder’s items. We are immensely grateful to him and to the Horde for having done so.

You should all know that for their sacrifice and for the trust that we have rebuilt, that Dverger will come and go freely from now on, to all of the far corners of magical Britain. We will welcome them into our shops and they will be equal partners in our economy and our daily life. With them, we will build a magical kingdom to surpass anything that has ever been built!”

This brought Harley, Hermione, and the rest of the people on the dais to their feet, clapping and hollering, in support. They were followed, somewhat more meekly, by the rest of the ten thousand or so who were present to hear the Minister’s announcement. Some, who recognized opportunity when they saw it, realized that they were all about to become quite stinking rich, since the Horde was sitting on so much pent-up demand… that was back with solid gold Galleons.

“Now, I have one more thing to say and that is this: Our lives have changed immeasurably for the good since Harley and Hermione Ross appeared amongst us We have gained an area of land larger than anything in all of Europe. It will allow us to grow as a people in ways we could never have imagined. We have an entirely new mountain, in fact, to remind us that things are possible that we had never thought of before!"

"With the help of the Dverger Horde, the no-mags are leaving and we will have all five thousand square miles to ourselves! We could never have dreamed of having such wide-open spaces for ourselves! Magical creatures will flourish in the forests we will create! Land will be available to grow magical herbs and magical trees. The Centaurs will be able to roam freely and we can learn from them, about taking care of the forests and the creatures within. Think of all of the possibilities! We won’t have to cloak our magic anymore, since the Ladies Ross have so thoroughly destroyed the no-mags’ abilities to watch us from space! We can finally be the people we were meant to be! And we will have no more prejudice based on parentage! Magic is magic, and it doesn’t matter who your parents were. Magic doesn’t care. You all know this to be true! Let us witness the final destruction of Tom Riddle and be about the business of growing in the people we all know we can become! Thank you and May God bless our Gracious Queen!

Harley and Hermione smiled to themselves. Not only had they gotten the thanks that they deserved, but by so doing, Cornelius Fudge had declared that any more discussion about parentage and magic was not only off-limits, but out-of-bounds in the “civilized society” that he wanted to build. After all, he had invested a very great deal of money in “financial accountants” and tax experts and “economists” and he didn’t want all of the work that they had invested in making the magical economy of Great Britain grow and succeed ruined by petty bigotry and societal snobbery. He deserved to be remembered as the best Minister for Magic ever. His heart told him so.

Harley and Hermione didn’t care, one way or the other. Their monies were tied up in the muggle economy and no Minister for Magic, nor anyone else for that matter, was going to be able to touch them financially. They also had a cadre of eighty students, from the current cohort at Hogwarts, who would follow them and do whatever they asked, even if it ran counter to some adult’s wishes. Not that either girl was going to ask anything of them at all, since neither was ego enough to want to use or control people. Harley only allowed the H’Reem to exist at all in fact because it served to insulate and protect Hermione. Your purity will be found in loving and protecting Hermione, the Grail had told her, and she had taken that message very much to heart. But… and it was a big ‘but’, it was nice to have the asset, in case it was needed.

It was time to focus on the here-and-now and set her plans aside for the moment. She had to make a show of sending Tom Riddle to Hell and that meant some careful timing and coordination… and that, in turn, meant relying on Narcissa Malfoy - the great planning mistress – to make it all happen. Hermione rose to speak, since it was only fair as Harley’s wife that she get a chance to address the crowd. Little Mrs. Know-it-all, as Severus Snape might have called her, walked to the podium, set her notes down, and said: “Ladies and Gentlemen, Minister Fudge, Lord Ragnok, Mayor Fitzwizing, Lord and Lady Malfoy, Headmaster Black and Lady Black, my beautiful wife, good afternoon! It is wonderful to be here on such a gorgeous day. Harley and I thank all of you for the welcome we have received from each and everyone one of you and we are grateful and happy to have re-discovered a property here that has been in the Potter family for close to the last thousand years. We will be making use of it to build a home for ourselves and the family that we someday will wish to start.

Now today is a special day. We gather for the purpose of closing a very dark chapter in our recent history as a people. We are going to send the madman known as Tomas Marvolo Riddle, Jr. to the Hell he so richly deserves. We are doing this, not because we are a savage people, but because we collectively recognize that some are beyond redemption and need to be dealt with in a permanent way.

Let me take a moment to tell you that Harley and I are both relieved and chagrined by the fact that Tom Riddle’s history has some out in such a fulsome way. We weren’t expecting that, to be quite honest. Not that we are ashamed of any part of it, but rather because it inflates Harley’s roll and diminishes the actions of important people, like Amelia Bones, The Head of the DMLE for all of us and the Minister for Magic himself, who had the courage to step forward and give his full support and commitment to Lady Bones when she needed it most. It most certainly understates the powerful roll that Lord Ragnok played in moving the entire Horde to finding and destroying several of Tom Riddle’s soul-pieces, when doing so cost them time… and we all know that time is money and well, we know how the Horde feels about that!”

Her comment drew a very hearty laugh from the crowed and a bemused look from Lord Ragnok, which would be captured by the photographers quite marvelously in a rolling series of pictures. “Finally, I need to thank my parents and my father and mother-in-law, Lord and Lady Black. Harley and I would not be together if it weren’t for their courage and determination. But, and this is important… Harley wouldn’t have the supportive family that she does if it weren’t for the sacrifices made by our friend, our teacher, the Lady Minerva Catherine McGonagall. She will be missed.” The audience applauded Hermione’s words, especially those who remembered the famed deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. “Having said all that, don’t you all think that it’s time to consign Tom Riddle to the ash-heap? What do you say? Should we do this?!”

There was an outpouring of excitement and cheering and Harley rose to stand next to her wife. Harley reached into her pocket and withdrew the Gringotts box. She placed it on the podium and returned it to its normal size. Taking off the lid, she reached into the box with a gloved hand and brought forth the gem. In the sunlight, everyone could see that it was a massive, pulsing, dark-red round ruby – almost three times the size of Harley’s hand.

From where he sat, Lucius Malfoy grinned. He could see the look on all the faces and he knew that they wanted that stone for themselves… and would do almost anything to have something that size. That was good, since he had made two others of similar size and didn’t know if they’d attract the kind of attention that he wanted. Now he was sure that they would. “Be careful, Lord Malfoy.” Harley had said, “Don’t make a lot of the small stuff. That drives the price down. Make big stuff and you’ll make money.”

Hermione, holding onto Harley’s hand, said to the assembled crowd: “We’ve arranged for reporters to watch what we are going to do up close, as well as for a screen, which you all can see behind you. My wife is going to lead this ritual, which is going to be extremely dangerous, but it has to get done. We will be opening up a portal directly into the Sun – and that is a huge risk, because of the radiation. If you don’t understand that term, find a muggle-born witch or wizard. They’ll explain it to you. Now, if the reporters we spoke with earlier would please come up here? Thank you. Minister Fudge? Are you ready to lead us?”

The Minister for Magic rose and took out the special glasses that Hermione had given him. So did Lucius Malfoy, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin – all of whom had been chosen because of their magical power and experience with magical ritual. The crowd watched in surprise and awe as the most powerful men in British magical society stood and readied themselves do help with a ritual that was both necessary and scary as Hell. The reporters who had been chosen took out their special glasses and their brooms, since they would be witnessing the ritual, on behalf of magicals world-wide. Harley and Hermione shed their outer cloaks and looked at the people around them. “Are we ready?” Hermione asked.

Everyone who was going to participate nodded.

“Good. On my count then. 3…. 2… 1” At one, Harley and Hermione rose into the air, without apparent effort, as did Lucius, Remus, and Sirius. They were joined by two others: Draco Malfoy, who had quietly joined his father on stage, and Li Qui “Cho” Chang, who joined Harley and Hermione. That made seven people, which was a powerful magical number, and just exactly what Hermione had suggested to Harley during one of their planning sessions.

The crowd gasped, cheered, and yelled as the seven principal practitioners rose into the air. They watched as well as the reporters who had been chosen to cover the even rose on brooms to watch the ritual.

****

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At Five thousand feet, Hermione took charge and began organizing the reporters, so that they would be out of the way when the show started.<p> “I have never done this before, so I don’t know what it’s going to be like when I open the portal. The heat and gravity could be immense and I don’t want any of you hurt. Please get high and to our right and left, so that you’re not in the way of what we have to do.”

With that, the reporters and Wizarding-wireless broadcasters started their scramble to get the best positions.

Once they were safely out of the way, Hermione sidled over to the Minister for Magic. She didn’t want to be overheard, so she drew up close. “Minister, sir, you’re here because we want you to be a part of this effort, because we know it’s important that you’re able to say that you were, to your supporters as well as to your enemies… but please, unless you have a specific idea about something we hadn’t considered, please… just give over your magic when the time is right. We don’t want you hurt and but we can’t afford to have you trying to get too close to the portal, either. We’re opening a doorway to a star that is almost eight million miles away and that could kill us both, if we can’t balance everyone’s magic, ok?”

For the first time, Cornelius Fudge began to understand the enormity of what they were about to try to do, and the complexity and difficulty of it almost floored him. No one, in the history of Magic, had tried to open a gateway to the Sun. It was impossible, everyone thought, so no one even thought about how one might attempt to do it. Now two Arch-Mages had a plan and a means to do it, if they could pull it off, but it was an incredible risk. One thing was for sure: If they were successful, it would be a story he’d be able to tell his great grand-children.

When everyone was set, the principal practitioners withdrew their Athames and made slices across their palms, to gather the blood that they were going to need. Li Qui stood between Hermione and Harley and began to cast, letting the fire from her uncut hand spiral out, into the heavens. When she was ready, she began chanting. At the third repetition, Hermione joined in. On the fifth, Harley joined in. On the seventh, everyone else in the circle joined.

At the end of the repetition, the blood that they had each sacrificed went racing in streams to the pulsating circle of Runes that Li Qui had conjured with fire. When Li Qui’s chant was done, and the magic that she had invoked was stable, Harley summoned everyone to stand/fly in a tight circle, holding hands. Summoning every bit of power that she could gather, she made a ball of pure magical power, allowing it to hover in front of her. When it was darkest blue, Hermione’s voice rang out, clear and strong, and everyone could feel just how truly powerful she had become. It was revelation for everyone in the circle, except Harley, who knew exactly how powerful Hermione was.<p> **“Deus, pater... Oro in conspectu tuo. Domina Magia, rogo te, ut sit dux noster. Domine Deus, iudex in actionibus meis et fac me manum tuam hic in Terra. Domina Magia, da mihi potestatem mittere hoc malum abire. Ut ignes nostri Mater, Stella aperi mihi!“**

Pushing the ball of magic up, away from her, Hermione focused everything she had into creating the portal that she needed. The distance was daunting. September’s Sun was 93 million miles away, and the Earth was moving away at a prodigious rate. That made creating a portal that would be close enough to the Sun more difficult than anything she had ever attempted. Summoning a dragon from Russia would seem like child’s play after this.

Putting on the super-dark glasses, Hermione was able to look directly into the Sun and see its corona. That made focusing her desire, what she wanted her magic to do, easier. Everyone else in the group also put on their glasses, before rejoining hands. The reporters put on their glasses as well. They didn’t really know what was coming, though it had been described to them. The last phase… was opening the portal itself. She was now more scared than she had ever been in her life. What they were asking her to do was something so dangerous, according to her calculations, than any deviation away from the exact timing could kill them all, and that very thought made Hermione almost sick to her stomach. Losing Harley terrified her more than anything. Even her magical purity was up for trade if it meant protecting the person she loved more than life itself.

Magically amplifying her voice, she yelled, “OK… I’m going to do this on a count of five. When I open the portal, the only two people who should be looking at the portal are Harley and me. If you look at it, you could be blinded. If you break away from where you are right now, you could be sucked into the portal. If that happens, you will die. Does everyone understand?”

She looked around. Seeing everyone nodding, Hermione began. Harley took out the gem, containing the remains of Riddle’s soul and set it to hover in the middle of the magical circle that Li Qui had created. There wasn’t time to thank her for what she had done. That would come later. Now she had to focus. They weren’t going to have time for much more than opening the portal, banishing the gem, and praying that they had enough strength left to end the connection.

This time, Hermione wasn’t going to use gold Galleons to mark the corners of the portal. Harley had done mostly for show. It wasn’t necessary for the magic to work. However, it did help to have a visual outline for where she wanted the portal, so she formed a ring, using a bit of cloud that she conjured and pushed it out, as far away as possible, but within her sight.

“Alright everyone. Here we go. Five…. Four…. Three….. Two…. One!” Hermione started casting furiously, pushing every bit of herself into making the connection between cloud ring and the Sun. At a nod, Harley moved the great, red gem in front of Cornelius Fudge. He looked at her and tried to suppress the trembling that he felt. It was up to him now and he realized that he might or might not be up to the job…. But every magical camera was on him and he couldn’t not be up to the job. This was where the rubber met the road.

Seizing the gem magically, Cornelius Fudge summoned every bit of magic that he had and gave the gem an almighty shove in the direction of the blazing portal. The gem, as if shot out of a cannon, sped toward it… faster and faster as the gravitational pull of the Sun, through the doorway, took hold of the gem and sucked it in.

Suddenly, one of the reporters broke ranks and went tarring after the gem. It was suicidal, Harley knew, but she wasn’t in a position to stop the person. Neither was anyone else within the magical commune… and in any case, they didn’t dare break the connection that each had with every other person in the circle.

They all watched in horror as the rider, whoever it was, flew vainly towards the gem, only to explode in a dramatic ball of fire, and disappear. Harley and Hermione watched the gem, all the way into the portal, before summoning their very last reserves of magic to close the portal. Blacking out, both girls fell out of the circle and started to fall, spinning uncontrolled towards the ground. “Dobby!” Sirius yelled. “Winky! Help!” He screamed, before diving after his god-daughter. 

****

**< ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>**

**_Three days later…._**

The bed was warm and comfortable, and there was a soft, female body next to her. Brown hair? Check. Vanilla perfume? Check. Silky, soft skin? Check. Beautiful, warm, overwhelming magic? Check. Hermione. Harley’s mind did the list not so much out of concern as curiosity. Any of their roommates, she knew, would instantly volunteer to snuggle up with them and had done so in the past, but it wasn’t any of them. It was her girl, and that made all the difference in the world. She was exhausted. More so than she had ever been before, and that included the hours after she had started building ‘her’ mountain. The only problem was, she wasn’t sure where she was. The bed was somehow wrong, though it was warm and soft. Opening her eyes, she looked around. Too much light! She closed her eyes and then slowly opened one eye. The high windows and the antiseptic smell told her where she was, most likely… hospital. But where?

“Dobby?”

!POP! “Mistress? You called Dobby?”

Harley reached out with one hand and pulled him close. “Yes. Where are we?”

“You’s being in the Hospital, Mistress.”

“I got that, but where?”

“Hoggywarts, Mistress. The Headmaster being very stern with Mistress Poppy. He said you’s was not to leave Hoggywarts, not while he had anything to say about it.”

“What day is it, Dobby?”

“It being Tuesday, Mistress.”

That almost made Harley struggle to sit up, but she just couldn’t summon the energy to do it. “What happened?.... I remember falling and then…nothing.”

“You’s be almost dying, Mistress.”

“How?”

; “Mistress Cho, the Headmaster sir, and Mr. Minister tried to save you, but you’s hit the ground hard. Protected Mistress ‘Mione with your magic. You’s almost died to save her.”

The little elf looked like he wanted to continue, but the doors slammed open and four people rushed in. Two of them, she expected, but two… not so much. What boggled her mind, as much as it could be, given how exhausted sore she still felt, were the looks of unspeakable relief on the faces of the invaders. “Da”.. Harley said, as she saw the streaky tears that were lining her god-fathers’ face and her mother’s face.

“I… love you. We… we were so scared. Didn’t know if we had gotten to you in time.”

The other faces belonged to Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa Malfoy, and surprisingly, Li Qui. Each face showed signs of recent tears. That surprised Harley, as she thought Lord Malfoy was a fairly implacable personality, and separately, that Li Qui felt that strongly towards them. Also, it took her off-kilter that Draco would feel strongly enough towards her that he too would be moved towards tears. Not that she minded, or believed that Hermione would mind, but it still surprised her. Turning her attention to the three, she raised her head a little bit and said with a fragile voice, “Lord, Lady Malfoy, Scion Malfoy.. you’ll forgive me if I don’t stand to give you the recognition that you deserve?”

Lucius’ mouth twitched and the smile that threatened to appear betrayed him. “I suppose that we can let it slide this once, young lady.”

The look of sudden pain on Lord Malfoy’s face caught Harley off-guard. The look of mischief on Narcissa Malfoy’s face explained it a moment later, as it became clear that she had just used the heal of her boot to remonstrate with her wayward husband in the most direct fashion possible.

Narcissa had become a second mom of sorts to both Hermione and Harley, and had seen to it that they both had as much education in etiquette and comportment as possible, so that if it did become necessary that they hob-knob with the other ‘less enlightened’ members of British magical society, that both girls would be able to do so with ease and grace. Not that either lacked in grace, because they both moved like athletic powerhouses that they were.

There was a relived merriment on the Lady Malfoy’s face. “Hush, Lady Ross… Harley. My husband was being obstinate for the practice. The truth is that he’s been struggling to maintain his traditional, dour composure since you two came into our lives.”

Harley smiled at that. Then she saw Draco’s expression and reached out a hand to him. He took it and was surprised when she pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek. “I’d kiss your beautiful mouth, but I don’t want to give your parents a heart attack” she whispered as they parted slightly.

“Just so long as you’re alright.” He whispered back.

A wave of intense gratitude towards him washed over her and she smiled. “Thanks” she said quietly.

Draco stood up again and edged between his parents. The three of them made a handsome picture and Harley reminded herself that her next gift to them would be a family portrait done of the three of them, by the best magical artist that she could find.

“Lord, Lady Malfoy, when I’m better… I have something to show you. I think that you’ll find it useful.” Sirius’ ears perked up at that and both he and Isabelle wondered if it was the magic that she had been practicing in private, along with some of the retired Aurors that she had co-opted with Alastor Moody’s help. He knew that Harley and Hermione had discovered something …well… remarkable, if the looks that he had seen on the faces of those retired Aurors were any indication. He wondered how long it would be before she showed him whatever it was that she had either created or discovered.<p> Turning to Li Qui, Harley raised a single eyebrow, which the beautiful Chinese girl returned, with a grin. “Alright then?” Li Qui nodded and smiled shyly. “Better.” Harley nodded. She knew exactly what the girl was saying, and appreciated all of the feeling that was behind the words. “When we’re better?” she asked, leaving the rest of the question silent. Li Qui completely understood though, even if the actual question was unvoiced and she simply smiled and nodded in reply.

Isabelle caught the by-play and understood what was going on, since Harley had confided in her that both she and Hermione had taken a particular liking to the beautiful Asian girl and that it seemed to be a feeling that was reciprocated in full measure. As for Draco, it was clear that he would very likely make another appearance in her daughter’s bed, since the three of them got on so well. Isabelle had no idea that her daughter was already making plans for conceiving, when she was old enough and that Draco figured prominently in those plans. Finally, Harley yawned and the visitors saw her eyes involuntarily flutter closed. It was time to go. The Gem was destroyed, sending Tom Marvolo Riddle to the Hell he deserved, and the girls had survived the most dangerous piece of magic the world had ever seen. For the moment, everything was alright. **{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

****

**THIS IS THE END OF BOOK II  
STANDBY FOR BOOK III**


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